Hannibal the Not-so-Secretly a Cannibal
by SmaugWearsaScarf
Summary: Jack Crawford is an idiot, Will is crazy, Alana is oblivious, and Hannibal wonders if everyone is stupid. Crackfic.
1. EXPOSITION!

**This is a crackfic. All grammar mistakes are mine. Whoops. ****There will be some mild swearing (only two**** so far...****) ****and general craziness. But it is a TV show about a cannibalistic serial killer, so I assume you're fairly mature, so on with the show! Enjoy. (Insert your preferred happy emoticon here)**

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><p>FBI academy instructor Will Graham finished class and was surprised to see a vaguely familiar person enter his emptying classroom.<p>

"Hey, Will Graham, it's Jack Crawford," he announced. "So there's this serial killer up in Minnesota, and I want to catch him."

Will nodded. "Right."

"So, you know that thing you do that helps you catch serial killers but makes you extremely unstable?" Jack asked.

"Yeah..." Will said suspiciously.

"You want to go do it?"

"...Fuck..." Will said. "I guess so, but only if you pay me in stray dogs."

Jack nodded. "We were gonna pay you in layers of gum, but that sounds cheaper."

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><p>Alana Bloom and Jack Crawford walked down the paths of the FBI academy.<p>

"So... do you want to sleep with Graham or what?" Jack finally asked, giving in to curiosity.

"Jack!" said Alana, looking deeply offended. "I'm his _friend_... who also kind maybe want to screw him."

"Mmm..." Jack said sagely.

"So, he's going back into the field, huh?" Alana brooded.

"Mmm..." Jack further said, his tone wise and inattentive.

"Jack, don't let him go batshit crazy and start murdering people, okay?"

"Lol, no, of course not, he'll stay completely sane and stable," Jack promised. "Know any psychiatrists for unstable FBI teachers turned special agents on a completely and totally, without a doubt, unrelated note, Alana?"

Alana looked thoughtful.

"Hmm... well I do know someone who might work. Dr. Hannibal Lecter."

"His name rhymes with cannibal," observed Jack intelligently.

Alana frowned suddenly.

"Weren't you white in the Silence of the Lambs?" she asked curiously.

"Uh..."

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><p>Hannibal watched Franklyn sob with clinical detachment.<p>

"Please doctor," he choked out.

Hannibal waited a few seconds, reveling in Franklyn's sorrow before reluctantly handing him a box of tissues. He blew his nose obnoxiously, then set the dirtied tissue on the glass table.

Hannibal promptly decided to murder Franklyn.

"I hate being this neurotic," Franklyn sobbed.

"I hate America's fascist anti-cannibalism laws, but you don't hear me complaining," Hannibal muttered.

"What?" Franklyn asked.

"What?" Hannibal asked.

They continued the session.

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><p>Jack Crawford was waiting outside. As Franklyn emerged from his session Jack immediately shook his hand.<p>

"Doctor Cannib- I mean _Hannibal _Lecter, Jack Crawford, FB- Wait... you're far too fat to be a psychiatrist!"

"Weren't you white in the Silence of the Lambs?" asked Franklyn, confused.

"I'm Canni- **_HANNIBAL_ **Lecter," interrupted Hannibal, interrupting the two as he emerged from his office.

"Right, shoo," Jack said to Franklyn, who left, still confused.

"Do you have an appointment?" asked Hannibal, straightening his already straight suit.

"THIS is my appointment!" exclaimed Jack, displaying his FBI badge, all but shoving it down Hannibal's throat.

"Ah. Before you arrest me I'd like to point out that it'll be very difficult for you to arrest a DEAD MAN!" Hannibal yelled, running for the door.

"Wait! We just need your help with an agent!" Jack called.

"Oh," Hannibal said, clearing his throat, embarrassed. "So this _isn't _about me being the Chesapeake Ripper?"

"What?" asked Jack.

"What? Come right in," Hannibal said.

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><p>"What lovely drawings," Jack remarked to Hannibal as the two walked over to his desk.<p>

"Don't look at the one below it," Hannibal told him.

Jack nodded. "Of course not. It definitely doesn't implicate you as the Chesapeake Ripper, right, because that would be a problem."

"This one is of my boarding school in France," Hannibal interrupted loudly, covering up the other drawing quickly.

"Oh, you're French?" asked Jack.

"No, I'm Lithuanian."

Jack frowned. "You have a Danish accent."

Hannibal shrugged. "Have you ever heard a Lithuanian accent?"

Jack made a face.

"That's what I thought," Hannibal said.

Jack cleared his throat. "Um, so I've got this guy named Will Graham, and he's really unstable, so I was wondering if you could maybe help me make him even more unstable- I mean help him. Help him."

"Can I eat him when we're done?" Hannibal asked.

"What?" asked Jack.

"I'd love to."

"Well, since I automatically trust you implicitly for no reason at all, let's go!" Jack exclaimed.

Hannibal wondered if Jack Crawford was stupid.

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><p><strong>Reviews are greatly appreciated. More to come soon. Bon apetite!<strong>

**SmaugWearsaScarf**


	2. Hannibal Does Nothing Bad Ever

**Hey guys! Thank SO much for all the love! Every review, favorite, and follow gave me a Grinch-like heart grow! Except not like that at all. Also I'm sorry I didn't update this thing sooner. AHH I'M AWFUL! ... Hmm... that came out wrong. What I mean is thank you, and enjoy the second helping!**

**P.S. All errors are still mine. I'm bad at editing my own stuff. There was a typo or something last time that I'm too lazy to re-find. Sorry about that, folks! Okay, NOW you can read the second chapter. Unless you just ignored this stuff, in which case none of this even matters! Aww... (disappointed facial expression)**

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><p>Hannibal sat behind Jack Crawford's desk while Will Graham stared at a map on the wall.<p>

"Right, so this chick called Freddie Lounds has been following this case, and she's gonna be important later in the show, so-"

"Wasn't she a man in Red Dragon?" interrupted Will.

"Uhhhh," began Jack.

"And, weren't you white in the Silence of the Lambs?" Hannibal added in, realizing he had yet to ask Jack the question that burned on everyone's minds.

"The next person who asks why my skin changed color is going to find out _why _I'm head of part of the FBI," Jack said angrily.

"Behavorial sciene," Hannibal clarified.

"What _do _you do, exactly?" asked Will curiously.

Jack scrunched up his face, thinking. "Uh, well I'm planning on giving all of my work to you from here on out, until you go crazy and I replace you with some chick who looks like Jodie Foster, so... that, I guess is my job."

"To stand over Will and tell him to do your work?" Hannibal asked, looking alarmed.

"Umm... Hey, Will, meet Hannibal Lecter," said Jack, eager to change the subject.

"No, it's Hannibal, not Canni- Actually, that's correct," said Hannibal, looking mildly surprised.

"And this is Will Graham," Jack finished, feeling very pleased with himself.

"My thoughts aren't always tasty," Will informed him.

'Well, I just won't eat your brain then," Hannibal decided.

"What?" asked Jack.

"What?" asked Will.

"You sure don't like eye contact, do you," Hannibal interrupted, continuing the trend of subject changing.

"Well eyes are portals to the soul or something like that," Will muttered, twitching.

"And you don't want people to look into your soul?"

"Wait a second... WTF?! Are you trying to head shrink me, Canni- HANNIbal Lecter? Because you won't like me when you head shrink me!" Will said, quoting the first thing that people think of when the hear about a TV show about Hannibal Lecter: the Incredible Hulk.

Hannibal just stared at him creepily.

"Well I have to go teach some kids how to head shrink, so whatever. Catch you on the flip side," said Will, storming out dramatically.

"You shouldn't screw with him like that," Jack told Hannibal, watching Will slam the door like a ten year old.

"Coming from the man who's job is to apparently screw with Will's head." Hannibal said.

Jack had no real reply so the scene ended.

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><p>In Minnesota another death had occured. As Will Graham walked onto the scene he immediatly realized that something was different.<p>

"There're a bunch of ravens pecking at that stag..." Will muttered. "I hope that doesn't bleed into my subconcious."

"What was that?" asked Jack, examining the body.

"Err, nothing. Just my sudden loss of attachment to reality. So, this crime scent, huh..." Will said, walking over to the body.

"Yes. You see anything different about it, Will."

Will looked it over carefully.

"There was no love in this murder," he told Jack dramatically.

"Really? I thought this just spelled romance..." Hannibal said from behind them, a subtle tone of sarcasm in his voice that everyone missed.

"Shut up, you're not in this scene," said one of the crew members.

"I'm not? Then why is this show named after me?" Hannibal asked.

"Just leave!"

Hannibal left.

"Right, so whoever did this... they thought she was a pig. That she deserved to die. We're looking for an intelligent sociopath. Kind of like the Chesapeake Ripper, but not that because we're in Minnesota and a serial killer can't like move around or anything. This killer feels strangely farmiliar though... like I've met them before..."

In the background Hannibal watched nervously.

"They're name probably ryhmmes with cannibal..."

Hannibal's concern grew.

Will shook his head. "Well, whatever. This copycat killer will never pop up again so we should just move on and stop caring."

Hannibal was caught between relief and despair.

"Yeah," agreed Jack. "I think the best course of action is to move on. It's not like we know anyone who fits that description or anything."

Will nodded in agreement.

One of the investigators grew concerned as the man in the suit who was not in this scene began to repeatedly bash his head against the wall.

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><p>Later that night Will Graham took a shower.<p>

"OH MY GOD IT'S THE STAG!" Will screamed as the shower curtains dramatically blew to reveal the ravenstag staring at him creepily.

"AND IT'S A CREEPER STAG THAT LIKES WATCHING MEN SHOWER!"

The ravenstag face-palmed, which makes sense if you don't think about it.

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><p>The next morning Will heard a knock on his door.<p>

He opened it.

"Good morning, Will," said Hannibal, holding up some food. "I cooked you breakfast. Do you remember that dead girl in the field yesterday?"

Will nodded slowly.

"This," he said, nodding at what he'd made. "Is definitely not you."

"Well, I have no reason to trust you and it's already been established by the fact that I got pissy about that shrinking stuff that I don't like you, so... please come in, Dr. Lecter, and I'd love to eat some of the food you made."

"Excellent," said Hannibal with one of his trademarked distrubing smiles.

Breakfast passes without further incident, unless you count Hannibal comparing Will to a mongoose, which Will thought was weird, but it was Cani- Hannibal Lecter saying it, so Will ignored it.

As did everyone when Hannibal did something creepy and/or serial killer-ish.

Because if you wear a suit and are wealthy you have nothing to hide.

Nothing.

...Nothing...

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><p><strong>Hiiii again... So feel free to send more love in the way of reviews and all that other cool stuff! I'll be back sooner this time, so until then: Thanks a ton, guys!<strong>

**SmaugWearsaScarf**


	3. Adventures in Throat Cutting

**Holy crap, you guys are amazing. Like seriously amazing. Can I hug you all? In a platonic and strictly professional manner of course, because we all know crackfics are very serious buisness. Especially Hannibal crackfics. The only thing more serious than a Hannibal crackfic is a funeral for a puppy. Or maybe a kitten. Something cute. Long story short, thanks for all the reviews, faves, and follows, and here's the spellbinding conclusion of the first episode of Hannibal! (Yay!)**

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><p>"What're you smiling at?" Will asked as he and Hannibal pulled into the construction site.<p>

"It's just interesting to see how the FBI operates when it's not kicking in doors or incorrectly guessing who the Chesapeake Ripper is, which isn't me, have I mentioned that?" Hannibal said innocently.

"Only seven times on the way over," Will said, and then proceeded to explain exactly how the FBI tracks down serial killers, which Hannibal took notes during. He wrote in a little notebook that was full of doodles of the girl from the field being impaled by deer antlers and a signed confession to the murder, none of which Will noticed because he thought he saw the ravenstag watching him.

"What're we looking for?" Hannibal asked.

"Anything peculiar," Will said.

"Like someone changing skin color or gender?" Hannibal asked. "That would be peculiar. Like, for instance, if they turned from Fred Lounds to Freddie Lounds, or from Alan Bloom to Alana?"

"Exactly," Will said, nodding. "That would be very peculiar and suspcious."

They got out of the car and started shifting through files while the woman in the builiding gossiped on the phone. She turned away after a minute and looked over at Will and Hannibal. Hannibal was inconspicuously wiping blood off his coat and Will had turned one of the files into a paper airplane.

"What did you say your names were again?" the woman asked Will.

Will ignored her in favor of randomly pulling out a file and listing the name off.

"Garret Jacob Hobbes?" Will said.

"Those are resignation letters," the woman informed him. "The files over there are-"

"HE DID IT!" Will proclaimed, holding the file aloft and making the woman jump.

"How do you know that?" asked Hannibal.

"They left a phone number instead without an address," Will said triumphantly. Hannibal and the woman stared at him.

"Soooo?" asked the woman after a moment.

"It's peculiar," Will told them, frustrated by their lack of reaction to his genius deduction.

"I bet loads of people don't leave an address," the woman said, irritated. "And, if you want suspicious, you should take a look at your buddy over there. He killed a cat and stored the edible parts in a cooler while you had your back turned!"

Will ignored her and turned to Hannibal. "Grab all those files and help me take them to the car. There's no discernable reason to do that, since we only need the one piece of paper from Garret Jacob Hobbes, but I think you probably want to call someone on that phone over there, so lets kill some time and give the killer extra opportunities to strike again, which we were very worried about earlier."

"Uh, thank you, I suppose?" Hannibal tried.

Will nodded because he was feeling pretty cool after figuring out the murderer so quickly (and without any actual evidence).

Will, the woman, and Hannibal began to load random and inconsequential files about port-a-potty expenses into the car and Hannibal suddenly threw one at the woman's head. She shrieked and ducked.

"Jeez Hannibal," Will muttered. "Didn't realize you were so clumsy."

"Did you just see that?" the woman asked hysterically. "That man just threw that box at my head on purpose!"

"Help me pick these up," Will told the woman who gaped at him while Hannibal took opportunity of the stupidity-fueled confusion to re-enter the building and begin dialing a phone number.

"Hey Hannibal!" yelled Will. "I'm just gonna wait for you outside with this lady and not grab any files until you're done on the phone!"

Hannibal did not reply, but he did imagine punching Will in the face until his knuckles bled.

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><p>"Hey, dad, phone's for you," said Abbigail Hobbes, handing it to her father.<p>

"Hello?" asked Garret Jacob Hobbes. He stood making breakfast with his peaceful, not yet murdered family.

"They know," a mysterious, Danish accented voice said on the other end, then hung up.

"Who knows?" Hobbes asked. "That makes absolutely no sense. Does my bank know I bounced that check. Does my mother know I stole ten dollars from her wallet when I was ten? I need context!"

The phone did not reply to him, so Hobbes decided the best course of action was to murder his family. Why not?

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><p>"Will?" asked Hannibal. They sat in the car outside of the home of Garett Jacob Hobbes.<p>

"Will? We've been sitting in this car for five minutes doing nothing. What if Hobbes is murdering his wife and daughter right this very second?"

Will didn't reply, just took some aspirin.

Just then Garret Jacob Hobbes burst out of his house and murdered his wife.

"Oh snap!" Will excalimed, dashing out of the car and staring into Mrs. Hobbes eyes as he tried desperately to stop the blood flow from her slit throat with his hand.

"Tell... Abigail..." Mrs. Hobbes whispered in a death rattle. "That she should... stop... wearing sweaters... They look bad on her..."

Mrs. Hobbes died.

Will drew his gun, ignoring the fact Hannibal, who was a doctor, had just stood around near the car and watched the scene while doing absolutely nothing. Will figured he had something intelligent and European to do before deigning to help Will.

"Garret Jacob Hobbes, sort-of FBI!" Will yelled as he kicked the door down like a bad ass and walking through the house with twitchy hands.

He walked into the kitchen and saw that Mrs. Hobbes was wrong, Abigail seemed like she would look awesome in sweaters.

Hobbes stood behind his daughter, knife pressed to the side of his neck.

Will shot him just as he began to open up Abbigail's throat, then shoot him an extra nine times because, let's face it, if you're gonna shoot a crazy cannibal dude you should do it a lot of times. What if he had superpowers? Then whose laughing? YOU! But people will think you're crazy because your laughing after killing another human being, so maybe you should just twitch some more and grab a hold of a paritally slit throat. Which Will proceeded to do.

He looked over at Garret Jacob Hobbes as Abbigail shook on the ground.

"See... see..." Hobbes hissed out. "See... Hannibal, friday nights, nine o'clock on NB-SEE," Hobbes told him, shamelessly plugging his favorite TV show before dying on the floor.

Hannibal, who'd watched the whole thing with a look of mild irritation, eventually decided he might as well help out, seeing as Will looked like he was about to have a mental breakdown and the girl was on the verge of dying.

"Oh snap," Will mutterd as Hannibal proceeded to save Abbigail's life for no other reason then to further screw stuff up.

"Oh snap..."

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><p>Jack Crawford entered Will Graham's classroom and was surprised to see Alana Bloom teaching in Will's place.<p>

"Where's Graham?" asked Jack.

"You said he wouldn't get too close," Alana accused. "What if he's too unstable to sleep with me now?"

"Lol, I did, didn't I?" Jack said wisely. His short, often extremely insightful quips were one of the reasons he was so good at his job.

Jack Crawford is an American treasure.

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><p>Later that evening Hannibal sat in Abigail's hospital holding her hand while Will watched on sadly.<p>

"Do any of your actions make any sense?" Will asked him.

Hannibal was asleep, so he didn't answer.

Will decided to sit down and stare creepily while sad music played very loudly and the scene faded away. Will decided he should take more aspirin until the music stopped. Ravenstags were one thing but closing credits were a little too crazy, even for him.

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><p><strong>Abrupt ending! I love the first episode because a whole bunch of it takes place in Duluth, Minnesota, which is where I live, which totally doesn't freak me out a little sometimes late at night. Anyways, review, follow, fave and all that cool stuff. Or don't. No pressure. (<em>PRESSURE<em>) I'll try to get another one up this week/end because the new episode(s) are making me excited to write. Alright, see y'all! (:**


	4. Will is a Badass

**Hey there, guys! I'd like to thank you guys for all the great reviews and stuff! This has been a fantastically fun story to write and I'm so pleased that people enjoy it. With that in mind, I give you the next chapter of Hannibal the Not-So-Secretly a Cannibal (have you noticed each chapter is getting progressively longer?).**

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><p>Will Graham fired round after round down the firing range and into a flat piece of paper.<p>

Once the clip was empty he hit the button and the piece of paper, now riddled with holes, glided forward.

"IT'S GARRET JACOB HOBBES!" Will yelled hysterically. "SHOOT HIM! SHOOT HIM! AHHHH!"

Garret Jacob Hobbes, now apparently invulnerable to bullets continued to glide forward harmlessly. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Hey, Will, now that I'm dead, I just wanted to talk to you about looking after my daug-" Hobbes began.

"DIE! DIE YOU MISERABLE MOTHERFU-"

Will woke up from his dream about re-murdering a dead person with a start as Jack Crawford drummed on the glass of the car window.

"We're here," Jack told him. "You ready?"

Will stared at him with wide, creepy eyes and said, in a monotone, "I dream about killing dead people now."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, that'll happen."

Will exited the car and they approached the hunting shack of Garret Jacob Hobbes.

The interior of the shack was filled with the mutilated corpses of animals and had the sort of lighting one would expect out of a cannibal's murder shack.

"Hmmm..." Jack brooded, examining the flayed intestines of what might've been a sheep dog. "He disguised his shack very well. No one would ever have guessed a crazy person owned this place."

"You're right," Will agreed, stepping over a pile of ripped-off, seventeen year-old girl jawbones. "He was carefully not to leave any evidence. We're going to have to work carefully."

Jack nodded. "Let's go upstairs. Maybe there'll be something suspicious up there."

They climbed up to the upper floor and entered a room full of mounted deer antlers.

"Now _this_," Will said. "_This _is sick. This should go in your stupid museum of crazy people."

"Hey now, Will. What we learn here will help us catch the next Garret Jacob Hobbes."

"Next Garret Jacob Hobbes?" asked Will in disbelief. "What're the chances there's another cannibalistic serial killer on the loose?"

"Almost astronomical," Jack admitted. "In fact I think I'll just discount that idea right now."

Will nodded. "Smart."

"I wonder where the remains are...?" Jack thought outloud.

"He ate them," Will said intelligently. "That's why he's a cannibal. You see cannibals eat their victims."

"Thank you, professor," said Jack, engaging in the first act of sarcasm or genuine wit he'd ever tried at. He decided he didn't like it and vowed to never try again. "But there's got to have been a lot of meat. Maybe he was feeding it to someone."

Will shook his head adamantly. "That would be ridiculous, Jack! Who would he feed it to?"

"Well, Abigail. She did come to the shack. I know he didn't leave a lot of disturbing things in the shack, as evidenced by his ordinary lower floor, but I think there's a very good chance she was somehow involved."

Will shook his head some more. "Hobbes killed alone," he said without any sort of proof to back up his claims. In fact Will didn't normally have any proof to back up his claims. Luckily the FBI doesn't require proof. As long as you're a charming, sort of scruffy-looking dog lover they trust you to know the identity of a serial killer through a combination of latent psychic abilities and blind magic. The FBI is a very trusting agency. And that's why they're so effective.

Something caught Will's eye and he leaned down to grab a long, curly, red hair from under a pair of deer antlers beneath a wooden board.

"Someone else was here..." Will muttered.

The camera began to pan away and-

"WAIT!" Will yelled. "You can't pan away yet! How the hell did this hair get here? What, do you expect us to believe Freddie Lounds stuck her freaking head way down here, completely out of the way and underneath a wooden beam? For no reason?"

"Will, calm down-" Jack tried, but it was futile.

"NO, JACK! This is too much of a weird scene ending! She just took pictures in here, she didn't rub her head all over the antlers!"

The camera began to pan away again.

"STOP IT!" Will yelled. "You can't ignore this!" But the screen faded to black anyways.

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><p>Somewhere Freddie Lounds sat naked in a chair, typing on her computer. Freddie Lounds, like most tabloid journalists, did the majority of her work in the nude, after taking a shower. That's just how they work. Don't question it. It's definitely not gratuitous nudity. Stop it! I can see you questioning it and you need to stop and just enjoy the partial nudity.<p>

"I am a BAMF," Freddie muttered to herself as she uploaded the photos to her unattractive-looking website. "I bet I'm gonna be everyone's favorite character after I get this new story out there. They'll all be like 'Freddie, you're so attractive looking and devilish, you _make _Hannibal the best TV show ever.'"

Somewhere Hannibal Lecter uncomfortably cleared his throat and wondered why he wasn't going to show up until ten minutes into a show about him.

Once Freddie Lounds was done on her website she got dressed. Because she knew that there was a fine line between being sexy and being weird. Unfortunately she had incorrectly guessed where that line was.

And now she was everyone's least favorite character.

Oops.

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><p>Will Graham walked into his classroom admist applause.<p>

"Woooh!" yelled the cadets. "You're so cool, sir!"

"Good work murdering that cannibal!"

"I wonder if there's another cannibal somewhere!"

"Who cares?"

"You're right! We should'nt care! GO WILL!"

"Woohooo!"

"Stop it!" shouted Will, waving his arms wildly, quieting the excitable cadets down. "I don't want to talk about how badass I am, killing that bastard and all. And now here's a powerpoint on what a badass I am because I killed that bastard."

He clicked a button and the resignation letter of Garett Jacob Hobbes appeared on his projecter.

"Does anyone see the clue?" Will asked. He waited a couple seconds, so that some of the cadets could get ideas, before yelling, "wrong!"

The cadets looked at eachother in confusion.

"There is no clue," said Will. "I just guessed."

One of the cadets stood up. "Sir, are you suggesting we decide who we should arrest based on whoever we randomly decide might have comitted a heinous, disgusting crime?"

"Basically," Will told the cadet.

"Do you realize you could ruin someone's life like that?" asked the cadet.

Will shrugged. "If you're making omelets you have to break a few eggs."

"Hey!" yelled another cadet. "Only Hannibal is allowed to make food related puns! That's the point of the show."

"Oh, I thought it was to torture me," Will said, looking surprise. "I guess it's true then. You guys teach me more than I teach you. Class dismissed."

Every member of that class that day joined the FBI and became successfull agents with the highest arrest rate with the lowest rate of correct arrests of in the history of the FBI.

And Will Graham was very proud. Assumably. He never really mentioned how he felt about his job as a teacher. In fact he might even hate it. We just don't know.

After class Alana Bloom came into the classroom.

"AH! Woman!" Will yelled, then cleared his throat awkwardly. "I mean, hello, Alana. You're looking your breast- I mean best today. How's, erm, having lady parts going?"

"Um..." Alana began, but was fortunately interrupted by the enterance of Jack Crawford.

"Hey, Will," he said. "How's it going?"

"They clapped because now I'm a total badass. It was inappropriate."

"Well the board certainly doesn't think so. Or does. I'm not sure, you phrased that weird. The point is you're up for a commendation, which we'll never hear about again so I don't know why I'm bringing it up, and you're back to active duty."

"If you want to," Alana interjected. "How're you feeling, Will?"

"Well," Will began. "I've been hallucinating about a stag with raven feathers and Garett Jacob Hobbes returning from the dead, and I'm probably going to overdose on aspirin, so well enough to work, I suppose."

"Good. We're going to give you a psych eval," Jack told him.

"Ah," Will said, staring at Alana. "Are we starting now?"

"Oh, no!" Alana said. "They'd never let me evaluate you, I wanna screw you. That's why we're having Canni- Hannibal Lecter evaluate you. He doesn't want to screw you."

"I know some shippers who would beg to differ," muttered Will.

"So, you in?" asked Jack.

"Anything to sustain my crippling dog and aspirin addiction," said Will.

"Good enough for me," Jack decided.

Later 'Good Enough' became the behavioral science department's motto, based off of Jack Crawford's legacy of using unstable and/or underage agents/cadets to do his work for him. When asked what he thought about the motto he declared it 'good enough.'

Jack Crawford: legacy of excellence.

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><p><strong>If you're keeping track that is the second chapter I've ended with a joke about Jack. Can we make three? Do we want to make three? I have no idea, I just like asking open-ended questions! Anyways, have a great day and if ya wanna review, fave, or follow I won't be mad. I'll be very happy. Maybe cry tears of joy. Or something. I dunno. Okay then, this is getting awkward. I should probably just stop typing... Any minute now... Okay, bye. :)<strong>


	5. Stuff Happens

**Holy crap, 40 reviews? You guys are literally the best. Not figuratively, LITERALLY! And as a response to BreakOnThrough, I keep thinking about how much I wanna mess with the episodes in season two, especially stiff FBI lady. So, as all of you are secretly dreading in your hearts, this fic will probably go through ALL of the episodes until I reach there. Which will take figuratively forever. So get used to me, guys!**

**Also I fixed some typos last chapter. Not sure if you care, just putting it out there. Okay, now let's get crackin' (get it, cuz it's a crackfic?).**

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><p>Will stood in the office of one Doctor Hannibal Lecter. He stood up on the strange balcony area because he wanted to look dramatic.<p>

"Why do you have so many books about evading the law, Hannibal?" asked Will curiously.

Hannibal was about to answer but Will spotted the paper Hannibal held in his hand.

"What's that?"

"You're psych eval," said Hannibal. "It says that you're completely rational, don't hallucinate about animals, that you never have, or will have, nightmares or strange blackout spells, and that if I'm ever in trouble you get pinned for my crimes."

"What was that last one?" asked Will with a frown.

"So, you're good now," Hannibal said, interrupting his confusion. "Free to fight crime and solve mysteries."

Will nodded slowly and began to pace, thinking. He noticed a framed picture on the wall of Hannibal and the impaled girl from the field in Minnesota as Hannibal cut her open with his pattented Hannibal-is-a-creeper-RUN smile.

"Jack thinks I need therapy," Will said.

"I wonder why he'd think that?" muttered Hannibal.

"Right?" Will said, taking his sarcasm for agreement.

"What you need is a way for you to escape dark places when I send you there. By which I mean Jack. I would never send you dark places. Except I will. Not really. I'm joking, Will."

"Last time I went to a dark place," Will brooded, ignoring Hannibal, "I brought something back. It was a T-shirt that says 'I killed Garret Jacob Hobbes.' I think I should stop wearing it when I visit Abigail. It creeps her out."

"You brought Abigail back, too," said Hannibal, who decided he might as well ignore everything everyone else says since they did so to him. "A surrogate daughter."

"She's yours, too," Will pointed out.

"She's both of our daughters."

"Sounds awfully slashfic to me," Will said. "We should be careful. As long as you don't do anything creepy around me we should be alright, though."

Hannibal immediatly stopped stroking the hair clippings he stole from Will while they were in Abigail's hospital room and nodded politely.

"Jack thinks Abigail helped her father kill and eat those girls," Will told him.

"He does?" asked Hannibal, impressed. "Maybe she truly is my daughter then."

Will shook his head, frustrated by the futility of it all.

"Will," Hannibal said, making him stop and turn. "The mirrors in your mind can reflect the best in yourself, not the worst in someone else."

"What?" asked Will. "That doesn't follow. Isn't my weird ability reflecting the worst in other people? Isn't that the whole _point _of this TV show?"

Hannibal shook his head. "No. The point is to make the viewers feel uncomfortably hungry when watching and to make cannibalism puns that prove I am more clever than anyone else."

"Even Anthony Hopkins?" asked Will.

Hannibal winced. "Careful, Will. We are getting into dangerous territory now."

Will thought about the point of the show for a few more seconds. "What about close ups of Winston? Isn't that another moral? That dogs are cute?"

Hannibal considered it for a moment.

"That is also a correct interpretation."

* * *

><p>Later that day Will Graham shot a handgun into a paper target at the FBI firing range. He looked around superstitiously, hoping this wasn't a dream, too. Just to be sure he pinched himself, which hurt enough to convince him that his dreams are getting more elaborate. Maybe he should shoot himself so that he would wake up...<p>

"You suck," Beverly Katz told him, emergining from the darkness to examine the targets. He had shot every target at least three times, except his own. His target was blank except for a picture of Hobbes' face that Will had taped on. He'd also doodled some black antlers on for a reason Beverly decided she didn't want to wonder about.

"Yeah, I got stabbed. Makes it harder to aim right," Will explained as he shot another bullet, this one going straight into the ceiling, a feat that was impossible in the word of phsyics.

"I got stabbed in the thrid grade with a mechanical pencil," said Beverly, stepping forward to adjust his stance. The joke was funny enough in the actual TV show that there is no need to parody it.

"Uh, Beverly?" asked Will as she moved his shoulder forward. He stood with his legs splayed like a pregnant woman crowning and the gun in a stiff grip that made him look like he was trying to break his wrist by squeezing.

"Yeah?" she asked, distracted by Will's unbelievably bad posture.

"Maybe you shouldn't touch me. I've already got two shipper parties."

Beverly nodded and released him. "You should be good now anyways. Try again."

The next bullet went straight into the floor.

"Well," Beverly said uncomfortably. "At least you tried. C'mon, we've got a new case."

* * *

><p>A line of corpses transformed into a macabre garden of evil lay in the dirt of the crime scene that Jack and Will entered together. It was full of FBI agents who examined the mushroom-ridden corpses with a combination of fascination and disgust, which was also how most people view the new Robocop.<p>

"So Hannibal says you're sane now, huh?" Jack asked, ducking under the crime scene tape.

"Not really," Will said, taking his turn to go under the tape.

Jack grunted. "Shame."

"So, some creepy stuff is going on here," said Will, looking around.

Jack nodded. "Yes. They were buried alive and in such a way that they would decompose quickly."

"Cute."

"They were all hooked up together, too."

"That's nice," said Will, nodding and putting on a thoughtful face.

"So..." Jack said, staring at Will pointedly.

"Clear the crime scene," Will said tiredly.

"Is he gonna do the thing?" asked an FBI agent as Jack waved him off.

"Yep," Beverly told him, following him as she, too, exited. "He's gonna do the thing."

"Sweet."

Will closed his eyes and watched a pendulum of light swing back and forth three times.

"I HAVE THE POWER!"" he yelled as reconstructed the crime scene in his head.

"Will-Man!" said the FBI in a reluctant chorus.

"Are people gonna get the joke?" whispered Beverly to Jack in the background.

"Ssh, he's doing the thing," Jack whispered back.

In the corner Freddie Lounds, who had yet to be noticed by any of the cast that actually mattered, took several pictures very loudly, which Jack ignored because an FBI agent had just asked why he was white in Silence of the Lambs but not here and now Jack had to beat him into submission.

"I do not bury his arms or legs, because I am too cool for that," Will says to himself as he begins to piece together the crime, starting with the first corpse.

Will looked at the corpse head on. "This is how I roll."

"He's alive... but he will never be conscious again."

Will taped on the breathing mask in his mind.

"He won't know that he's dying. I don't need him to. This is how I roll."

Will looked down and suddenly the victim was gone, replaced by Garett Jacob Hobbes.

"Hobbes, get outta the way," said Will. "I'm trying to solve a murder here!"

"Okay, okay," said Hobbes good-naturedly. "I'm gonna get you, though!"

Will laughed. "Oh run along, you scamp," he said fondly and Hobbes disappeared politely as the corpse suddenly realized it wasn't a corpse and yanked on his arm.

"RAVENSTAG! I mean, AHHH!" Will yelled.

Freddie Lounds, who was still watching, frowned. "That guy wasn't dead."

"No," agreed an FBI member.

"Shouldn't the people who investigate serial murderers be held to a high enough standard that they _know _when someone's dead or not."

The FBI guy shrugged. "This isn't your momma's FBI. It's Jack Crawford's."

"Oh yeah," Freddie said. "I forgot."

"Good enough?" she asked, grinning at the FBI dude.

"Good enough," he agreed, and they fist pounded while Will collapsed on the crime scene, hyperventilating. The FBI surged past him to examine the not-dead dead guy and Will lay there for the next three hours until Hannibal showed up to try and nab some fresh meat and took pity on him.

Luckily the FBI's rush wasn't in vain, because the not-corpse managed to survive for an extra three minutes thanks to their dedication.

The FBI rocks.

* * *

><p><strong>You guys know the drill. I'll be back before you know it. ;)<strong>

**Also, #thisishowiroll should be a thing. Just sayin'.**


	6. Hannibal Finally Gives Up

**Hey guys. I know it's been a while, but I do actually have a valid excuse. I kind of got into an accident and screwed my head up a little for a while. But don't worry, I'm back and my writing is back to its shiny full potential!**

**Also, to everyone who's read/reviewed/favorite/followed my story thank you so much. Reading your reviews and seeing how many people like this just makes me _SO_ happy, you guys have no idea. :)**

**To Aguna, yes I do totally own the DVD box set. When I write these (no one asked but I'm gonna tell y'all anyways) I watch the episode, pause it and write some jokes, then move on. That's why sometimes you see actual lines from the show stuck in here. Going back to Aguna, I'll try and think of an angle for a gag reel special chapter of awesomeness, but if I can't I'll write a special chapter anyways for you and I'll of my other readers who're awesome (which is ALL of them) once I get to like fifteen chapters or so.**

**Okay, I'll try and make this one extra long for you guys to make up for not updating! And here... we... _go_.**

* * *

><p>Will Graham set Hannibal Lecter's letter on Hannibal's desk.<p>

"This may have been premature," Will said.

"Why?" asked Hannibal. "Because you were unstable to begin with and were never comfortable with the idea of this in the first place?"

"No," Will said, "I saw Garret Jacob Hobbes. Wait," Will said, realizing something. "Why do we always refer to him by his entire name? Can't we just say Hobbes? We say the whole thing nearly every time, what's up with that?"

Hannibal shrugged. "This is your country, not mine."

"Oh yeah," Will said. "Normally I don't like to think about you because it's confusing. You're from Lichtenstein or something, right?"

"Yes... I'm from Lichtenstein," Hannibal said through gritted teeth. He wondered why he even bothered. Maybe he should move back to Europe, take up a new hobby. Maybe golf... or perhaps beekeeping.

Hannibal suddenly had a strange feeling someone in the future was going to steal beekeeping as a hobby from him. Well, there was still golf...

"So you saw Hobbes," said Hannibal, shaking off the distraction of the idea of not being surrounded by idiots. "An association?"

"A hallucination," corrected Will, pulling out a bottle of aspirin and downing five without batting an eye.

"Have you told Jack?" asked Hannibal.

Will snorted. "Of course not. He's my boss who's supposed to care about my mental wellbeing and make sure I'm not too far in over my head, why on earth would I tell him I'm hallucinating about some guy I killed and a ravenstag?"

"A ravenstag?" asked Hannibal curiously.

"Yeah," Will said. "It's like a deer, y'know," he explained, throwing his arm above his head as fake antlers and clopping around the room making what he thought were fairly accurate stag sounds but in reality sounded more like a dying hyena on speed. "And it had feathers, too," Will continued, this time flapping his arms like a bird.

"Oh," Hannibal said. "How many of those aspirin have you taken, Will?"

"Enough to know that this is all stupid. Therapy doesn't work on me."

"Have you ever tried before?"

"No," Will said, making a face. "It just sounds so... whatever."

Hannibal sighed. "Your hallucination is most likely stress, Will. You swapped someone else's victim for your own."

"I don't consider Hobbes my victim."

"What do you consider him?" asked Hannibal.

"Dead," said Will like a badass. He even gave a little swag nod because he was_ just that cool_.

"How badass," Hannibal observed, echoing Will's thoughts easily since Will had gotten the word tattooed on his forearm right after he killed Hobbes. He'd also considered getting a teardrop tattoo, but he figured that would've been tasteless. Even more tasteless than the T-shirt he made that said 'I KILLED GARRET JACOB HOBBES AND ALL I GOT WAS THESE LOUSY HALLUCINATIONS.'

"Now that you have killed someone do you find it harder to understand the thrill others, like myself but not, of course me, get when they take a life?" Hannibal asked, wondering if killing someone in front of Will would make Will suspect he was up to something. Probably not. At this point Hannibal figured he could probably run for president and win.

Will thought about Hannibal's question for a moment, swallowing. Then he nodded and smiled nervously, because if you smile that means _everything is okay_.

Hannibal, wisely deciding he didn't give a damn, moved from behind his desk over to Will, thinking.

"The mushroom killer. Why did he leave the arms exposed, Will?"

"I dunno. Cuz he was crazy?"

Hannibal stared at him for a full minute until Will said. "Or, uh, maybe he wanted to keep them alive?"

"Like fungus," Hannibal said, nodding at Will like he was a five year-old who had just spelled C-A-T on the chalkboard. "It mirrors the human brain. Connections, neural pathways, all these parts of what makes us human and the human experience."

Will's eyes widened with understanding. "That's it, Hannibal. This serial killer... he's seeking out humanity... that must mean... he's an alien!"

Hannibal paused, then said, very calmly, "excuse me for one moment while you rethink that, Will."

Hannibal left his office, grabbed a knife, murdered three cats and the neighbor who always played his music too loud, and returned.

Will still hadn't figured it out yet.

"Connections!" Hannibal almost yelled. "The killer is seeking _connection!_"

"Oh..." Will said. "That's better than the theory I thought up when you were gone. It involved giant spiders and Stephen King."

Hannibal decided he would kill Will's dogs in front of him before actually taking Will's life.

* * *

><p>Hannibal slammed the door on his next client, a woman with curly red hair.<p>

"Wait!" she squawked. "I'm important to the plot!"

Hannibal sighed and took several calming deep breaths, pictured wide open fields full of dead bodies, then opened the door and smiled.

"Please come in," he said to Freddie Lounds invitingly.

She smiled and followed him into his office.

"So, I'm looking for a therapist," said Freddie. "Because I need one. I have no ulterior motives whatsoever. Or interior motives. Or exterior motives. In fact I have no movies at all. I don't know why I'm here."

Hannibal let out a long sigh.

"Give me your purse."

"What?" asked Freddie. "Why?"

"Because I have a tampon fetish," Hannibal said sarcastically. "Now hand it over."

Freddie complied and Hannibal pulled out her phone.

"You were recording my conversation with Will Graham, Ms. Lounds," Hannibal said, adding you bitch to the end of the sentence in his head.

Freddie didn't have the common decency to look embarrassed, instead she looked disturbingly proud. "Yeah. Pretty clever of me, right? I'm a total BAMF. Now the Hannibal fandom will have to love me!"

"Yeah, no," said Hannibal, taking the phone and slamming it to the ground, proceeding to stomp on it.

"WAIT! That's not in the script!" Freddie said, aghast.

"Screw the script, you're all idiots," Hannibal said. "Now give me your wallet!"

"It's in my purse. Which your holding," Freddie said, feeling resigned to her fate.

Hannibal pocketed the 25 dollars Freddie had in her purse, took the Kleenex and the mints from the bottom and put them in his desk to give to Franklyn, and then gave her the purse back.

"If you ever come back I will impale you on a flag pole," Hannibal said calmly.

Freddie left immediately and never returned to Hannibal's house, except in that one episode that's coming up, but that's not 'till later, so screw that.

* * *

><p>Jack Crawford sat down to a meal with much pomp and circumstance.<p>

"Loin," Hannibal said as he gave Jack his dish for the evening, which had a red sauce that looked like blood. And also was blood. Human blood. From a person. That Hannibal was gonna eat. With Jack Crawford.

"Ah, what kind?" asked Jack, appraising the meat with a discerning eye.

"Human," Hannibal told Jack.

Jack chortled with laughter. "Cannibal, sorry, Hannibal Lecter, you are a riot. Honestly, why didn't you become a comedian? Well, I suppose they don't have any comedians in Belarus."

Hannibal, who had officially given up on everything, just smiled and nodded.

"But it's nice to have a home cooked meal. My wife, who may or may not become important later on in the story, doesn't cook, since she works all day. In fact my mother didn't either... Or, at least not well. I was very skinny as a youngster," Jack said with a nostalgic grin.

"Well that most certainly has changed," muttered Hannibal.

"What?" asked Jack.

"What?" asked Hannibal. "Maybe you should bring your wife with you next time. She sounds like someone who would be fun to torture."

"The only torture my wife knows is the torture of bad cooking!" Jack joked. "And cancer. Also that."

"You don't know that yet," said Hannibal, biting into his delicious human meal.

"It was a good joke," Jack said. "Rule of funny, look it up, Hannibal. Or didn't they have internet in Kazakhstan?"

At this point Hannibal didn't know whether or not to be insulted or just depressed. He settled on taking out his anger on that mean he'd seen a few days ago with his trousers hanging low and his underwear exposed. Perhaps he should start killing teenagers...

"Why do you think that Will Graham came back?" asked Jack.

Hannibal frowned. "Why do _you _think Will Graham came back?"

"You really are a shrink, aren't you?"

"I want to know if you trust Will, Jack. Are you so careful with him because you think he is a broken pony?"

It was Jack's turn to frown now. "What're you implying?"

"Have you ever lost a pony, Jack?"

Jack sighed. "Hannibal, can we wait a few more episodes before we get into this?"

Hannibal sighed. "Alright. A toast?"

Jack smiled and they clinked their glasses.

"I'm the Chesapeake Ripper," whispered Hannibal.

Jack, who had selective hearing, ignored him and instead pictured everyone in the FBI as centaurs and decided he wanted a painting done of him riding centaur Will Graham into battle against evil while brandishing a broadsword. It seemed pretty cool.

And Jack Crawford knew cool. He was in the motherfucking Matrix.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, that's all guys! You know what to do. :)<strong>


	7. Unnamed Science Team Member Cries

**Hi guys. I know y'all are totally like "where's smaugwearsascarf been for the past week?" So to make up for my absence, I'm gonna do two (not one, two!) chapters today. That's love right there, folks! The kind of love a parent gives to a child in the form of an PS2 after missing their soccer game for the third consecutive time even after I was totally the goalie two of those times, which is really awesome for me cuz I'm normally terrified of the ball and SERIOUSLY, THREE FRICKING GAMES? HOW COULD YOU?**

**Ummm... Here, fanfic, enjoy! (runs away while y'all are distracted)**

**DISCLAMER: I do not own Hannibal. If I did why would I put it on a site called . By simply putting this on this website I am giving the disclaimer of FAN FICTION. Not creator fiction, FAN. If I owned Hannibal I would call this HANNIBAL. Get it through your skulls!**

**Whew. Glad I got that outta my system.**

* * *

><p>In the forensics lab of the FBI Will Graham and the team that was fondly titled 'sassy science,' after their sassy attitudes towards atoms and protons. Or something. Nobody really cares that much about them.<p>

"Inside the body," began one member of the team that nobody knew the name of because no one cares that much. "We found a combination of hardwoods, shredded newspaper, and pig poop."

Everyone giggled for a couple seconds after hearing the word 'poop.'

"They all died of kidney failure, though," added Zeller, whose name is remembered for solely the use of the Z in his name.

"He pumped dextrose into the tubing, something about dialysis, uh... science stuff," Beverley Katz said, walking in and handing Will a file.

Will nodded. "I thought science stuff might've killed him."

"They were force feeding them sugar water," said unnamed team member with a frustrated sigh.

"That's what I said," Beverly said, scowling.

"Well, those mushrooms sure loved that sugar water," Zeller said. "But there has to be more than that... Who else like sugar water...?"

"Uh, recovering alcoholics," Beverly stated. "Oh, sorry," she said, turning to unnamed team member.

"Oh, I'm not recovering," joked unnamed team member.

"Wait, hold the phone!" Will said. "That's not cool. We're just gonna casually drop in that you're an alcoholic? And never bring it up again? _Dude_, that's an important plot point. That's a big deal, man. Alcoholism is serious! Is that just a joke or are you actually an alcoholic? Cuz if you are we could say screw the episode, let's just learn about unnamed team member for a good half hour. I'd be more than willing to do that."

Unnamed team member shrugged. "I dunno. I just read what's in the script."

Will shook his head. "Well... jeez, take care of that. Talk to Bryan Fuller. I don't want stuff like that just casually dropped in."

"Sorry," apologized nameless team member.

"It's okay, just um, just try not to do that again, okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Where were we?" asked Will, turning back to Beverly.

"Sugar water," she prompted.

"Right. So they we're killed by sugar water. What does that make them?" asked Will.

"Hummingbirds?" suggested Zeller.

"Suicidal?" suggested unnamed team member.

"JESUS!" yelled Will. "What the fuck, man? That's not even funny! Dude, you are dark. Do you need a therapist or something?"

Unnamed team member stared at his shoes. "It's just... no one knows my name..." There we're tears in his eyes now.

"Well, I'm sorry. You need to talk to us about this stuff, character who no one knows the name of. I like you."

"Really?" asked unnamed team member, now openly weeping.

"Oh, of course I do-N'T! HA! You thought I liked you? Man, that's so funny. You're just so easy to trick!"

The whole room reverberated with laughter and unnamed science team member started shaking and ran out of the room.

"Man. We have fun, don't we, Zeller?" asked Will, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"Yeah," Zeller said, laughing. "This is a great job."

"What about the case?" asked Beverly.

"Oh, they're all diabetic," Will told them.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Beverly said, nodding, Zeller echoing her agreement.

"Right. So this scene's over then. Um, do you think that nameless guy is okay?" Will asked, feeling guilty for a moment.

Zeller shrugged. "Do you honestly care?"

"No, no I don't," Will said. "All I care about is my dogs."

The scene faded since there were no more good jokes to make.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile a woman who wore a shirt that showed more cleavage than necessary (not that that's a bad thing) walked up to the counter of what would be a Wal-mart pharmacy, except for legal reasons is just a nameless grocery store. Like the unnamed science team member. Except he actually has a name. That no one cares about.<p>

"Picking up a prescription for Gretchen Speck," said boob woman.

"Ah," said the man behind the counter who everyone knows is the murderer, staring at her chest and suddenly unable to think clearly for some mysterious reason. He quickly began to sort through names.

"Speck... Speck... Horowitz-Speck?"

"Yeah, we're divorced. I lost the hyphen," she said with a smile that somehow reached her boobs.

"That's cool," said the pharmacist who we all know is about to kill this lady. "I was married once."

"Were you?" she asked, continuing her weird smile.

"Yeah. I induced a diabetic coma and planted her in the ground. I'm kinda into that. It's like my thing."

"Oh, that's nice," she said, not listening.

"I'll, erm, get your drugs now."

The man turned around, opened the fridge, pulled out a plastic baggie labeled 'diabetic death drugs for killing' and pulled out one of the bottles it contained.

"Here ya go, ma'am. I'll just be stalking you until these kick in, if that's alright with you."

"It'll be like having a husband again!" she said with another smile, this one even more boobalicious than the last.

Life is good when you're a serial killer. Which is the moral of the T.V. show.

* * *

><p>The FBI swat team entered the supermarket, which seems like it would be really scary for the customers but we don't really get to see it so it's hard to actually tell. Jack Crawford and Will Graham entered the supermarket without any cool guns because they're too bad ass for that.<p>

They marched to the pharmacy desk and Jack flashed the badge he'd flashed in chapter one of this fic, if you remember that far back.

"Jack Crawford, FBI, resident black dude," he said.

"Weren't you white in the Silence of the Lambs?" asked a customer innocently.

Jack nodded at one of the swat team members, who promptly shot the customer in the head.

"We can only do once callback per chapter," Jack said. "And I can be whatever color I want. I'm Jack Motherfucking Crawford. Now which one of you pansies is the serial killer?"

"H-he left just a few minutes ago," whimpered one of the pharmacists.

"Is his car still here?" asked Will.

The pharmacist, staring at the rapidly growing puddle of blood forming around the innocent bystander, did not react.

"HIS CAR, BITCH!" yelled Jack Crawford. He'd been watching a lot of Breaking Bad lately and he wondered if he should start ending his sentences with the word 'bitch.' It sounded really cool. And Jack Crawford was into cool. That's why he owned sunglasses and had a subscription to Awesome Shit Monthly.

The terrified pharmacist nodded terrifiedly.

The FBI made their way to the parking lot, which for some odd reason was a parking ramp. What kind of grocery store has a parking ramp? That's just plain weird.

"It's that one," said the pharmacist, who had soiled himself after Jack punched a woman in the face after she'd asked why the director of Behavioral Science in the FBI would personally come along to a mission that he really didn't need to come along for.

Will approached the car the pharmacist had indicated and used a heavy night stick to bash the window open.

"Where'd you get that?" asked Jack. "You didn't have it three seconds ago."

Will shrugged. "Do you honestly care, Jack?"

"Not really," Jack admitted. "The only thing I care about is looking cool while doing the minimum amount of work required."

"That's horrible," said the pharmacist.

"So is your face," said Jack. He and Will high-fived and Will opened up the trunk of the serial killer's car.

It was full to the brim with dirt and an unconscious body, which Will immediately dug out.

"She's got a nice rack," observed Jack as the body became visible as the blonde lady we'd seen earlier.

"Aren't you married?" asked Will.

Jack shrugged. "She's dying."

"But you don't know that yet," Will protested.

"I read ahead in the script. Can you believe that you're gonna get to make out with Alana?"

"I am?" asked Will. "Do we get together, and get married, and live happily ever after?"

"Hey, look," Jack said, "it's a distraction!"

"Where?" asked Will, turning around and searching for the aforementioned distraction.

"Jack- Where'd he go?" asked Will, staring about.

"He r-ran away," said the pharmacist. "I think he slashed the car's tires before he left, though."

Will grinned. "Classic Jack."

"I think he went back to the counter," the pharmacist added. "Something about Freddie Lounds?"

* * *

><p>Back at the counter Beverly Katz was looking at with Jack Crawford, Zeller, and unnamed science team member, who had just finished writing his resignation letter and was mentally preparing to hand it over to Jack.<p>

Will hurried into the group.

"Well, what's it say?" Will asked.

"Will Graham is a stuupid, ughly, meanyyhead who won't tell me nothing. He'z fat and his doggs are annoying and toetaly he smells bad, 2. Will Graham is ssoooooo ugly that his mother musta died of sadstuff disease after she gave birth to him. I bet Will Graham'z aktor is so uncool that he'll never not never ever get a job after Hannibal cuz he'z so untalented. He's just the wurst aktor ever. Hugh Dancy can suck my curly, ginger lady dick," Beverly read out loud. "#freddielounds4prezident."

"How is she a reporter again?" asked Zeller.

"I dunno. How's Jack head of Behavioral Science?" Will asked.

Jack shrugged. "I don't know."

Beverly scrolled down, looking at other posts, one of which was a picture of Hannibal eating a human hand. It was right below a very badly photoshopped image of her under the Hannibal logo with the text "NEW STARR OF NBCE's HUNNIBAL FREDDDIE LOUANDS IZ SUPA AWESOMESAUCE."

"Nothing incriminating here, sir," Katz told Jack.

"Can I still threaten her?" asked Jack.

"I don't see why not."

Everyone high-fived in celebration of their collective awesomeness.

* * *

><p><strong>I just wanna say very quickly: I mock Hannibal because I love it. I also love you guys and your awesome reviews and stuff. Which you should continue doing, if you want to. Or don't. It's not like I'll know. In fact you could flick off the computer screen that my thought-words are on and I'd never know. Actually you could print this all off and burn it if you felt like it. I don't know you. Probably. So... think about all that, I guess.<strong>

**Now go ahead and keep on truckin' y'all.**

**Smaugwearsascarf out!**


	8. Freddie Continues To Make Fans Angry

**Here's the next one, guys! TWO IN ONE DAY IS AWESOME!**

* * *

><p>Freddie Lounds heard a knock on the door of her apartment. Or house. Probably apartment.<p>

"Who is it?" asked the least favorite character on the T.V. show.

"Wait a second," she heard from behind her door. "Jack Crawford knocks for NO ONE!"

Her door flew open thanks to the liberal application of Jack's rage kick and two FBI agents grabbed and pinned her to the bed, quickly handcuffing her in one smooth motion.

"Oooh, I like handcuffs," Freddie said. "They make me-"

"Shut up, bitch," said Crawford, saying exactly what every Hannibal fan wants to say and does say loudly as they stare at their TV screen in frustration. "Guess what I got?"

"A stupid face?"

"No, _you've _got a stupid face."

"No _you _do."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"NUH-UH!"

"UH-HUH!"

"Uh, sir?" asked one of the agents.

Jack cleared his throat. "You're in a lot of trouble, Lounds."

"You can't arrest me for that! I want my lawyer! I want some security! I want my mom!" Freddie yelled.

"You're spreading crap, you ginger witch," Jack told her. "Did you get all that information on your own, she-devil?"

"Yeah, totally," she said, staring at Zeller who was sitting innocently in the corner and quickly turned bright red and waved his arms in a 'shut up' motion. Freddie winked very loudly.

"Don't worry, Brian," she whispered very loudly. "I won't tell them you gave my any information!"

Zeller's face was no longer red. It was purple.

"But you can't arrest me for publishing that little story of mine," said Freddie with a smile. "Nothing illegal about a blog. I have all of my slash fiction about Hannibal and Jimmy Price uploaded there, too! Did you read it?"

"Hannibal and who?" asked Jack.

"Jammy Prouz? Who's that?" asked Zeller.

Freddie rolled her eyes. "Lol. Whatever. Hash tag too cool for you."

"We found your hair at a crime scene," Jack said finally, deciding he didn't like it when people verbally stated their hash tags.

"Oh. Oops. Could you just, like, forget about that?"

"If you promise not to ever publish a story about Will again."

Freddie crossed her fingers.

"Sure."

"Awesome," Jack said. "FBI, roll out!"

Zeller stayed behind to unlock her cuffs. "You used me," he said angrily.

"Hash tag sorry not sorry," whispered Freddie as he stalked away. "But if you ever want have sex again call me!" she yelled.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile in Baltimore Will Graham stared at Abigail Hobbes sleeping body like a demented psychopath. He enjoyed hanging around in hospitals because being around sick people reminded him of how awesome he was cuz he was still healthy and stuff.<p>

He looked over his shoulder and out the door just in time to watch the ravenstag walk past.

"AHHHHH!" yelled Will. "THE CREEPER STAG IS BACK!"

The stag backed up to glare at him, then motioned him to follow.

"What're you, kidding?" asked Will. "Why would I follow a freaky monster thing? I've seen horror movies! Following you would be stupid."

The stag stared at him.

"Oh yeah," said Will, suddenly remembering something. "_I'm _stupid. I forgot! Okay, let's go, monster!"

Will woke up from his bizarre dream suddenly to see Alana Bloom sitting in the room with him, reading out loud from her ipad.

"And then Clarice Starling shot Buffalo Bill a lot and-"

"What're you reading?" asked Will.

"Silence of the Lambs."

"Oh. Am I in that?"

"Yeah, they mention you briefly," she told him.

"What'd they say?"

"Oh, um, you're an alcoholic in Florida with a cut up face no one can look at."

"What about my dogs?"

"Ummmmm..." she said, but was interrupted by Freddie Lounds angrily demanding that they skip this scene and jump to hers.

Since Freddie was correct for the very first time in her life (and last) the scene suddenly shifted.

* * *

><p>Freddie Lounds stepped out of her home and walked down the steps. It seems like she lives in a motel at this point. So let's just say she walked down the motel steps and was stopped by a police officer.<p>

"You lied to me," he said angrily.

"You'll have to be more specific," Freddie said.

He scowled. "I gave you that information. About the Shrike."

"Oh yeah," said Freddie. "And I got you to proofread my other fanfiction."

"The one where Hannibal has sex with you and everyone decides to fire Will and put you in his job?"

"Yeah!" she said with a grin. "Wasn't it awesome?"

"Not the... first word that came to mind. Do you have spell check?"

"Spell check is for pussies," said Freddie. "Whoever writes this crackfic doesn't have spellcheck and the story's still funny, right?"

"Not always. People miss jokes. Two chapters ago you put down means instead of teens. Why would Hannibal murder some means? It doesn't make any sense!" the officer protested.

Freddie shrugged. "Who cares?"

"You should take pride in your craft! I can't believe that-"

The officer was cut short by being shot in the skull.

"HASH TAG NOT COOL!" Freddie yelled as the man who had shot the grammar loving officer walked up to her.

"Tell me about Will Graham."

"Who?" she asked, then grinned. "JK man, sure, I'll tell you everything! Will Graham was born in..."

* * *

><p>Jack Crawford made his way to Freddie's presumably motel home.<p>

"Jack?" she called from the ambulance.

He made his way over, stepping over crime scene tape.

"Bitch, what did you do now?" he asked.

"H-have you been watching Breaking Bad?" asked Freddie.

"Yes, I have," Jack said, forgetting his anger.

"I'm writing a slashfic about Jesse and Grimes from the Walking Dead," she told him. "Do you like the Walking Dead?"

"Yeah."

"It'll be on my blog in about a week. Check it out. Anyways you should probably go find Will Graham."

"Uh, why?" asked Jack nervously.

"Oh, I just told the serial killer about Abigail Hobbes is all. No big deal."

"Damn it, Lounds! Can you do anything right?"

"I'm pretty awesome at tastefully nude shots."

Jack thought about that for a moment.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Yeah you are."

"Damn straight," she muttered.

* * *

><p>At the hospital a batshit crazy pharmacist snuck into a staff only room and came out wearing scrubs.<p>

No one respects Staff Only rooms anymore.

Luckily for him everyone in the hospital ignored the fact that a man who did not work at that hospital was running around, stealing clothing and patients. Apparently paying attention to your coworkers is not important in Baltimore. Everyone was probably just too worried about the overpopulation of serial killers in the region. Ever since Jack Crawford had become head of Behavioral Science all of the funds that would've gone to catching them were diverted to personalized license plates for all FBI members that say 'Registered BADASS.'

Jack Crawford knew how to get shit done.

Meanwhile Will Graham was also in the hospital, his phone ringing loudly. His ringtone was 'Who Let the Dogs Out.'

"Hello?" asked Will.

"Yeah, Abigail's kinda in trouble. That mushroom guy, the one who's into connections, you remember him?"

"Yeah."

"He's coming to kill her or something. I don't know, I just skimmed the script."

Will hung up and drew his gun. The hospital staff ignored that, too. Apparently no one in Baltimore cares about anything. Apologies to anyone from Baltimore. He ran into Abigail's room.

"Oh snap!" he yelled, seeing her empty bed. He dashed back out of her room and stared around wildly, searching for her with wide eyes.

He ran to a nurse's desk.

"Where is she?" he demanded franticly to the woman behind the desk.

"Who?"

"Abigail Hobbes!" yelled Will, practically foaming at the mouth. The nurse politely ignored his gun.

"They took her for tests," she said.

"WHO TOOK HER?" he yelled, stomping, eyes rolling back in his head in rage as he flailed his arms violently.

"I dunno, some dude I've never seen before," said the nurse who apparently had never heard the word 'security' before in her life.

"Crap!" he yelled. He ran like the wind, or maybe something more realistic, like a cheetah, not knowing where the serial killer was going. Luckily the magic of TV allowed him to turn the exact right corner and catch glimpse of the murderous murderer of murdering murderousness who was preparing to murder the yet to be murdered not-murderess.

"Hey, fuckbag!" yelled Will. He winced and decided to work on his insults.

Will shot him in the shoulder before allowing the killer a chance to think about his bad quip.

The man went down with a yell.

"What were you going to do to her?" demanded Will, which was a stupid question because he did the exact same thing to every person he killed.

"We're all mushrooms or something."

"Hippie!" yelled Will.

"They told me you'd understand!" the man yelled back erratically. "About connections! You're supposed to have empathy! Don't you understand me?"

"No," said Will. "I don't."

This was also a stupid thing to say since Will Graham's whole deal was understanding everyone, even when he didn't want to. So liar could now be added to Will's resume. Not too bad for a crazy guy.

"The spores," the man was yelling. "They understand us. They're like people. Don't you see? They're interconnected like a brain, like we can't be! They're all-"

"Shut up," said Will, who promptly shot him in the head and took pictures of the crime scene with his cell phone camera. One of which he titled MUSHROOM KILLER & ME SELFIE, BITCHES! He posted it on twitter and instagram, feeling pretty proud of himself.

"Now I have something to show my students," he said, nodding at himself. "I really am a bad ass."

Somewhere Thomas Harris began crying.

Hannibal cleared his throat. "Excuse me, I haven't been in the past two chapters, can I please do something creepy?"

"Go for it," muttered Will, stuffing some aspirin down his throat.

Hannibal took the serial killer's body and dragged it away slowly while Will watched, twitching.

"Man. I wish the FBI paid me for some of this."

Will watched as the credits began to role and took another few aspirin.

"These hallucinations are getting weird. Who the hell is Hugh Dancy? Or Mads Mikkehealeeeson? I can't even say his last name! And whose name is Mads, anyways? What kind of name is that? Ugh. Let's just end this chapter, I need to sleep. Or toss and turn for a couple hours. Who cares?"

Will sighed and the episode ended without anything interesting really happening. Kind of like real life.

* * *

><p><strong>Alright guys, take care, lotsa love! Review and stuff if you wanna!<strong>


	9. Alana Spits Truth, Yo

**Hey guys. As you noticed (or haven't) I've been really busy lately and haven't really been updating once a week like I did when I started writing this fic. So from here on I'll probably be updaing less often. Super sorry about that. But don't worry! I'm just gonna give you 2! chapters every time I update from here on out! So here we go, episode 3 of Hannibal! (dear god is it ever gonna take forever to get to season 2. Maybe I should write better so that these are shorter or something...)**

**Also there has been more swearing lately. And there will also be more swearing this chapter. You have been warned. Also Alana takes a really weird turn.**

* * *

><p>Garret Jacob Hobbes and Abigail Hobbes stood in the forests of Minnesota in an unannounced flashback, since Hobbes is dead in case you forgot. Will sure hasn't.<p>

The cannibalistic serial killer (not Hannibal, the one that was mentioned literally two sentences ago) stared at a deer through a pair of binoculars that he slowly moved from his eyes and handed to his daughter with the same eagerness as a snail going to a French restaurant.

"Why'd you hand them to me so slowly, dad?" whispered Abigail.

"Because it looks dramatic," he whispered back.

The deer looked up but didn't realize it was about to be shot because it was a dumb-ass motherfucker.

Abigail handed the binoculars back to her crazy father and took the gun she had slung over his shoulder and aimed it at the deer.

"That's it," her father whispered. "Feel the anger! Embrace the dark side of the force! LUKE, I AM YOUR FATHER!" Hobbes yelled dramatically, scaring the deer and confusing the lines of Darth Sidious and Darth Vader because he was more concerned with being a creep towards his daughter than actually making correct Star Wars references.

Abigail quickly aimed at the deer and shot exactly where its head was through the crosshairs of her impressive looking scope. Unfortunately since this is a TV show the first shot missed because hitting on the first shot makes you a showoff or Black Widow. And Abigail Hobbes looks nothing like Scarlett Johansson. Although they're both very attractive.

The deer slowed down and stopped running for some odd reason. Maybe it was suicidal?

Abigail aimed again and this time shot it, although you only hear a thump because Hannibal is too classy of a TV show to show you a deer being murdered. But dudes with skin carved into wings? Sign me up!

Hobbes jumped up and down, squealing with glee.

"Aw, Abby honey! Look at that! If I weren't going to kill you than I'd say you'll be a great serial killer just like your old man one day! But I am gonna kill you so screw that!"

He clapped his daughter on the back and started forward, an uncomfortable Abigail at his heels.

* * *

><p>"She was so pretty," Abigail Hobbes remarked later in the hunting shack as they began the butchering process.<p>

"She _is _so pretty," Hobbes said, drooling a little due to his deer fetish.

"Aren't deer supposed to be complex emotional beings?" asked Abigail.

"Yeah," Hobbes said, wondering if he could slip away for a few minutes and jerk off to the idea of his daughter shooting that sexy-ass deer (he's a serial killer who wants to kill his daughter, don't look at me like that! I can make as many dirty jokes as I want; you don't have to read this!).

"I heard they're like the equivalent of a four year old human being," Abigail said sadly.

"Abby, sweetie, you're really ruining my buzz," he told her. "Now follow in my footsteps and cut this thing open while I take picture!"

"Why're you taking pictures, dad?"

Hobbes looked at her shiftily. "Definitely not for creepy, unspeakable reasons, honey."

"Are you sure, dad?" asked Abigail. "Because it really feels like it's for creepy, unspeakable reasons to me."

"You're feelings are wrong, honey," said Hobbes. "You know that gut feeling you get sometimes when you know something is wrong?"

Abigail nodded.

"Well it's lying to you. Crush and deny your emotions until your only way of expressing yourself is through eating people who look like your only child!"

"What?" asked Abigail, vaguely alarmed.

"Just cut it open," Hobbes said with a sigh.

"I dunno how I'm gonna feel about eating her after all of this," Abigail said as she began to cut the deer open.

"You want to know something, honey? When your mother got pregnant I had a dream that I was gonna have a son who would play football and lift weights and do man stuff with me. Instead I got a little nancy girl that can't kill a deer without crying. So you know what you're gonna do, Abby, sweetheart? You're gonna eat this damn deer while I watch and then you're gonna help me eat girls that look exactly like you and then you're gonna feed the dog and wash the dishes and not complain. Alright?"

Abigail nodded obediently and began to cut the deer open again.

"Hey, Abby?"

"Yeah dad?"

"I'm gonna eat you."

"I know dad. I know."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile in Wolf Trap, Virginia Special FBI Punching Bag Will Graham exited his house with his dogs, wearing nothing but underwear because he was badass like that. The underwear were unnecessarily tight but Will liked to showoff how awesome he was to his dogs so he wore them anyways.<p>

Alana Bloom was waiting outside.

"Dr. Boobs! I mean Cleavage Bloom! I mean Alana Breasts! Err... Titties?"

"Morning Will," Alana said, ignoring Will's missteps the same way she ignored Hannibal's love of cooking her meals that tasted vaguely like people she'd heard had been murdered by the Chesapeake Ripper.

"You just here to check out my package?" asked Will, gesturing at a cardboard box.

"Abigail Hobbes woke up," said Alana.

"Was she sleeping?" asked Will, confused.

"Yes! She was- she was in a coma Will! You visited her with Hannibal and with me, remember?"

Will shrugged. "I've taken a lot of aspirin and had a lot weird dreams about deer with feathers and a crazy dude I killed, excuse me if I don't recall every little bit of my life."

Alana sighed. "At this rate I'm just gonna sleep with Hannibal, Will."

Will laughed. "Yeah right. Bryan Fuller isn't that crazy, Alana. That's about as likely as Freddy Lounds surviving to season two."

Alana made a face. "Will, haven't you been reading the scripts?"

"S-she doesn't-?" Will whispered horrified.

Alana nodded sadly. "I know."

Will shook his head, feeling depressed. "This is an unjust world. I'll go get my coat."

* * *

><p>Several hours later Alana Bloom walked into a hospital with a large Kmart bag full of discount clothing, Cheetohs, and off-brand mountain dew.<p>

She walked into a room where Abigail Hobbes lay and decided she would try to talk to Abigail like an equal and quickly tried to figure out how teenagers talked nowadays.

"Yo, Ab-dog my homie. My name be Alana Bloom and I be cooler than sony. Check it real dogg and I be spittin' psychiatric flow in real talk, I be shootin' truth like it be a glock. And I be rolling help for all you gals who be feelin' down some, cuz sometimes dads be cannibalistic and dumb. Yo."

"I'm not sure dumb and some rhyme the way you think they do... A-are you a doctor?" Abigail asked.

"P.H.D, my bitch, I been makin' it rich. I been studyin' them books and talkin' some truth like those rappers who come from Duluth. Word."

Abigail blinked. "Um... okay? I-I've been asking the nurses but they told me I had to ask you... A-are my parents dead?"

"It be sad news, my sister but I gotta spit it real. You're family be deader than the New Deal."

"Who buried them?"

"Even though they can't make no sound your parents are yet to go in the ground."

"Don't you think they should be buried?"

"Well your ma she been cremated, while you been sedated, and yo pa he be a problem like Osama Bin Laden."

"Because he was crazy?" Abigail asked.

"The nurses said 'Alana that girl don't remember,' but now I see that be as true as sunshine at the end of November."

"D-do you have to talk like that?"

"I have to talk how the kids be spittin', otherwise I make less sense than a dead kitten."

"Now you're just making things up."

"I create truth outta rhymes Abigail, next to me other rapper psychiatrists be pale."

"What're in those bags?"

"All the shit that a young girl could wish for. I got food, clothes, and music like Linkin Park and Paramore. Don't like somethin' I'll take it back. My flow be tighter than my grandpa's heart attack."

Abigail wondered if it would be improper to start crying.

"You want somethin' and I'll get it to you. And if you don't like someone I'll turn 'em blue. Cuz I'm Alana Bloom and I get respect. I'm better at psychiatry than a teenager at texts. I'll be helpin' you better than Hannibal helps Will. Course that's easier than gettin' Hannibal to find a rude person to kill. I'm cooler than an ice cube without the summer's sun. My name's Alana Bloom and this rap is done."

Abigail started crying.

* * *

><p><strong>The next chapter will be up in an hour or so. I'm so sorry about rapping Alana. Feel free to send some love in the way of reviews and all that cool stuff. I'll get over it if you don't though. :)<strong>


	10. Abigail Makes Friends

**Holy crap we're in the double digits! In other news I will give the promised special chapter whenever I hit 100 reviews, because I've got a ton of ideas and we're gonna hit that soon. NOW: witness the continuing saga of Hannibal the Not-so-Secretly-a-Cannibal continue in the continuation of the story in continued chapter 10. Enjoy :P**

* * *

><p>Jack Crawford sat in his office with Alana Bloom who was wearing a gold bling necklace for some odd reason and Hannibal who was inconspicuously chewing on a cooked human heart.<p>

"We have to find out what Abigail Hobbes knows," he said told the two psychiatrists.

"We can't just ask her, Jack. We have to create a safe place for her to open up," Alana protested.

"Or we could torture it out of her," suggest Hannibal. "I find the human mind opens up best when the human body is under strain. Like when a chest cavity opens up when you plunge a pipe into it."

Alana glanced at him sidelong. "That's what the Chesapeake Ripper does sometimes, you know."

Hannibal nodded. "I'm not the ripper."

Alana nodded. "That's good enough for me."

"Me, too," said Jack. "I'm sure that definitely won't come back to bite me in the ass later."

Hannibal repressed a sigh.

"Do you really think Abigail Hobbes helped her father kill those girls, Jack?" asked Alana angrily.

"I dunno. I'm just guessing," Jack said with a shrug. "I'm also interrogating a man who went to high school with Hobbes forty years ago and a Labrador retriever named Terrence Lacob Cobbes."

"Terrence Lacob Cobbes?" asked Hannibal, confused.

"I named him myself," Jack said proudly.

"Then why are you- Never mind..." muttered Hannibal. "How's she doing?" he asked, turning to Alana. "Abigail, I mean."

"Surprisingly practical," Alana said thoughtfully. "I think she responded very well to me rap therapy."

"Surprisingly practical or SUSPCIOUSLY PRACTICAL?" asked Jack loudly, standing up suddenly and slamming his fist into the desk. "I say we arrest her immediately and torture her using my car battery and some suspicious looking mold that formed on my bread earlier!"

"I'll get my scalpels," volunteered Hannibal, leaping up as well.

"But you can't do that!" protested Alana.

"And why not?!" asked Jack, now standing on his desk and striking dramatic poses he imagined people used when forcing information out of maybe criminals.

"Because it's illegal!" Alana yelled.

"I am the law!" proclaimed Jack, punching the air victoriously and pumping his fist like he'd won the lottery.

"No you're not!" yelled Alana angrily.

Jack stopped punching the air.

"I-I'm not?"

"NO!"

"Oh. I thought I was," Jack said, sitting back down, crestfallen. Hannibal followed his lead, looking equally disappointed.

Jack sighed. "Alright. Let's have Will Graham talk to her."

"It's too soon!" protested Alana.

"Alana..." Jack said very seriously. "Fuck you."

* * *

><p>Will paced through his full classroom, presenting his presentation in a present and presentful manner.<p>

"Garret Jacob Hobbes," he told the eager FBI students. "Was a piece of crap. Not literal of course. Figurative. Figuratively Garret Jacob Hobbes was fecal excrement secreted from the anus of a homo sapien."

Several students took that as a sign to leave and go become florists.

"He killed numerous Minnesotan girls. They were all the same age, same height, same weight, same eye color, same hair color, same favorite TV show, same car, same jewelry, same favorite food, same catchphrase, same shoes, same superwholock sweatshirt, same fuck tha police CDs, same Star Trek calendar, same dog breed, same gradient, same toaster, same floral arrangement, same salted nut roll, same underwear, same orientation, same-"

"Professor?" a student said, raising his hand politely.

"Yo," said Will.

"How did you get this job, sir?" asked the student.

"How did you get that ugly face?" countered Will defensively.

"Um, sir, that wasn't an insult. I'm genuinely curious. How exactly do you work for the FBI. I really don't get it, Professor Graham."

Will frowned. "I'm not sure. I think I slept with the director?"

"Of behavioral science?"

"No! Jeez. He's way dedicated to his cancer-ridden wife."

In the background Jack Crawford and Hannibal Swag-Lector entered the classroom just as Will switched slides, deciding the bit had gone on long enough and he should try to think of something else to make the viewers laugh.

"Right, so there was a ninth victim. But Hobbes didn't kill her. Some other dude did. A... _copycat," _whispered Will, taking the opportunity to hit the speakers on his ipod for a dramatic sound effect. Unfortunately it came in three seconds too late so Will stood awkwardly and waited until it happened.

"Lecturing on the copycat killer?" Hannibal whispered to Jack.

Jack nodded. "We need all the minds we can get. It's sure not like I'm gonna solve it. And Will seems a bit distracted lately. Keeps screaming 'ravenstag' and attacking pedestrians. He's up to 24 dogs now and I think he might be feeding them all valentines candy he bought himself last year. It might be safer to let some untrained FBI candidates in on this one."

"Because Miriam Lass worked out _so _well," muttered Hannibal.

"How do you know about her?" Jack asked, curiously.

Hannibal coughed awkwardly. "Oh I, erm, saw her once. At a party. It was at Laurence Fishburn's house."

Jack Crawford frowned. "Huh. You think I would've been there for that."

Hannibal sighed.

Will clicked to the next slide and turned bright red.

"I, ah, don't know how that got on there," said Will, face the color of a tomato as a picture of himself dressed up as a dog surrounded by all of his dogs appeared on the projector. The caption said 'Love is Forever' showed above and an image of Jodie Foster was superimposed.

He clicked forward. "Hm. I forgot I took that one..." he said.

All of the FBI students, suitably sickened by Will's dick pic all stood up and made hasty excuses and left, leaving Will to do the rest of the slideshow for Garret Jacob Hobbes, who was sitting in the front row and kept flashing him thumbs-up signs and asking about his daughter.

Will wondered if taking more aspirin would solve all of his problems.

He did so.

It did not.

* * *

><p>Abigail Hobbes stared at the woman before her in confusion.<p>

"So you're not a doctor, a nurse, or a psychiatrist/rapper?"

"I'm a BAMF," explained Freddie Lounds. "I write on and I write fanfiction. Lately I've been writing Jack Crawford slash fiction about him and Will. I've named it 'the Hardest Crack to Case.' Here," she said, handing Abigail a leather-bound copy. "It was featured on Competitive Erotic Fan Fiction."

"You do know that's a comedy show, right?" asked Abigail bewildered, paging through it with a combination of shock and confusion akin to that of Bryan Fuller when viewing extremely kinky Hannigram fanart.

"Is it?" asked Freddie, looking like she'd been punched in the face.

Abigail swallowed and faked a smile. "It looks good, Freddie. I'll read it later," she promised.

"Will you?" asked Freddie eagerly. "And will you review it?"

"Sure," lied Abigail.

"Awesome. In that case can I write your story?"

"Um... how about no?" Abigail said, looking at a very descriptive chapter in 'the Hardest Cast to Crack' in which Jack's wife gets in on a three-way.

"But I'll never lie to you, Abbigail!" promised Freddie.

"Sounds like something a liar would say," Abigail observed.

"Oh snap," muttered Freddie in respect for Abigail's mad skillz.

"How about you tell me what happened and I'll _think _about letting you write about me."

"You're father killed people," said Freddie.

"Yeah. I saw him kill me mom, Lounds."

"Oh, yeah. That must've sucked. I should write a fanfic about that... I'll call it... Throat Slit, World of Shit."

"I am in a world of shit," said Abigail, a reference that was lost on 76% of the people who read this.

"Anyways they called him the Minnesota Shrike and he killed chicks that looked-"

"Just like me," interrupted Abigail.

"That's suspicious," observed Freddie.

"Why'd they call him the shrike?"

"After a bird or something. I don't know, I just made stuff up on my site. I've been kind of busy lately with 'the Hardest Case to Crack.'"

"I can tell," Abigail muttered, setting the story down as though poisonous. "How did they catch my dad?"

"Will Graham. He's-"

"In your fanfiction, I know. But what's he do?"

"He's a special agent for the FBI. And he's totally hot," Freddie said. "Also unstable. Kinda crazy. Good for a fanfic though. He's the sad, sweet sort of crazy, not the stabby sort of crazy. Real nice."

The door to the room opened.

"He's also a total meanie pants," said Freddie as Hannibal and Will walked into the room. "I wouldn't trust him if I had no one else in the whole galaxy to trust. He's ugly and mean and-"

"Hi, I'm Will Graham," said Will. "And this is Canni- Hanni- Whatever. This is the guy who the TV is named after. I think you were just leaving, Freddie," said Will, turning an unfriendly eye towards the red-head.

"No I was- Oh! You want me to leave. Here," said Freddie, starting to hand Abbigail her card but Will snatched it up before she got a chance.

Will read it.

_FReddIe LOOunds_

_ aNd smutfairyprincesssexytimeXOXO _

_alSo paints GARAGEs_

_nO REfunds_

"Could you paint my garage?" asked Will.

Freddie nodded and left quietly, eager to avoid Will making fun of how she'd put her profile picture (an abstract painting of a cat cooking waffles) on her business card.

"So, you wanna talk?" Will asked, turning to Will.

"You killed my dad," Abigail said, turning to Will.

"You're dad invades me dreams. I think we're about even."

"That's bull crap."

"You're bull crap."

"You're a jerk."

"Wanna be friends?" asked Will.

Abigail shrugged. "Just as long as I never have to see Alana Bloom again."

"I can't promise that. Can we still be friends, though?"

Abigail Hobbes sighed. "Sure. I've got nothing better to do. Am I friends with him, too?" she asked, turning to Hannibal. "Because I'm not sure I want to be his friend. He keeps staring at you and drooling. He poked you with a fork earlier and licked it. How did you not notice?"

"You don't have to be his friend, no," said Will, is selective hearing acting up again as he stuffed some aspirin down his throat.

"Everyone is an idiot," Hannibal told her, looking at her with a long, tired face.

Abigail smiled. "Actually, yeah, I want to be friends with him, too."

"Cool!" exclaimed Will. "Now we're like a family."

Listening through the doorway Freddie Lounds had a fantastic new fanfic idea...

* * *

><p><strong>I apologize if there's a real smutfairyprincesssexytimeXOXO out there. Okay, you know what to do! :)<strong>


	11. A Very Special Episode (Hannibal Cooks)

**I promised you guys a beautiful, magic, special chapter of love.**

**This is what I came up with. I have no idea what it is, but there is a little bit of me that regrets it deeply. I picked lambs randomly, it wasn't specifically a reference to Silence of the Lambs but it kinda works that way so I left it. Also: SLIGHT SPOILER if you're behind a few episodes in season two. I think you're probably okay though.**

**Enjoy HTNSAC Specail: Cooking with Hannibal**

**P.S. I adore you guys and your awesome reviews. I wish I could give you all some platonic hugs. Pretend I'm doing that to you all right now. Or don't; now that I think on that it's kinda creepy.**

**Like Hannibal.**

* * *

><p>"Hello, and welcome to Cooking with Hannibal!" said the announcer in a loud, heroic voice, pointing to camera one, which zoomed in on the (Estonian? Romanian?) <em>European<em> (Eurasian?) man with the suspicious name who stood on the TV set, wearing a frilly pink apron and holding a bowl decorated with hearts.

"Um, Mr. Jones, sir?" asked Hannibal, raising his hand politely and staring at the announcer.

"Ah, damn it, cut!" yelled Jones, waving his hand angrily. "Dude, we're filming!" he complained.

"Well that's the problem. What're we doing here, exactly?"

"We're filming a cooking show, duh," said Jones. "The most awesometacular kick-ass show ever!"

"And why am I in it, exactly?" asked Hannibal.

"Because you're Canni- _Hannibal_ Lecter! Aren't you supposed to be an awesome chef or something? You've got a TV show that the nation totally digs and don't you cook on that or something?"

"Have you seen the show?" asked Hannibal, feeling both vaguely concerned and strangely ambivalent.

Jones made a face. "I was going to, but someone said it was scary so I was like, dude, screw that! Why, do you do something weird on the TV show?"

Hannibal sighed. "So you want me to make food for your TV show?"

"Basically, yeah," said Jones with a wide grin. "Like, cool food and stuff."

"Alright," Hannibal said, deciding to see where this idiotic idea took him.

"Wooohooo! Alright, hero time! ACTION!" Jones yelled.

"Hello, my name is Hannibal Lecter," Hannibal said smoothly. "And today I will be teaching you to cook human chops. By which I mean lamb chops."

The crew of Cooking With Hannibal grew concerned.

"First you will need to find your lamb. Today's lamb was a lamb I murdered personally, who went by the name Robert Jackson. Rude lambs are preferred, seeing as they bleat very loudly and are harmful to sheep society. I firmly believe all rude people, by which I mean lambs, should be killed and eaten, preferably being fed to strangers and your friends."

"Uh, Mr. Jones?" hissed one of the crew members. Jones waved him off, looking fascinated.

"He's got an awesome accent," Jones said with a daze. "And look at that classy suit. I wish I could see him swim. That's be cooool."

"What's wrong with him?" whispered another crew member.

"It's the Curse of Hannibal," hissed a voice from behind.

"AHH!" yelled the surprised crew as Special FBI Agent Will Graham snuck in behind them.

"Shush! The cool, dreamy foreign guy is talking about how rude lambs are a plague on humanity and must be purged from existence in the most painful, torturous way possible," Jones whispered, blue eyes firmly glazed over.

"Isn't he a vegetarian?" asked Chuck the sound guy, pointing at Jones.

"Meat is goooooood," Jones said blandly, a placid smile on his face.

"Uh, don't you guys want to hear about the Curse of Hannibal?" asked Will, scratching the back of his head and looking disappointed.

"Oh, right. What's that?" asked a guy next to Chuck.

"I'm glad you asked," said Will, pulling out some note cards he'd brought with him.

"Anyone who meets Hannibal Lecter will be instantly charmed by him despite the fact he is very clearly evil. Women fall at his feet despite the fact he says very creepy things while serving them food that tastes strangely like their neighbor who plays his stereo too loud.

"Men trip over themselves as they try to curry his favor and give him their unstable agents despite the fact that he is continuously talking like a serial killer and also is the most statistically likely person to be a serial killer out of all of them.

"People who know that Hannibal Lecter is evil also immediately like him despite the fact they know he's evil. This is called the Law of Charming Cannibals and it is the cornerstone of the Curse of Hannibal."

Will cleared his throat to continue on but froze, staring at the wall.

"What?" asked the lighting specialist, nonplussed.

"RAVENSTAG!" he screamed, pointing at thin air and screaming like a little girl.

He collapsed into a foaming puddle and started whimpering.

"I wish I were a dog, I wish I were a dog, I wish I were a dog, I wish I were a dog..."

Meanwhile things weren't going much better on set.

"The rude lamb is a piece of worthless scum undeserving of both your pity and its life. God only creates lambs so that we might end their lives. Anytime you see a lamb behaving in a manner improper you should put on a weird plastic suit, grab a butchers knife and hack its arms and legs off and then proceed to cook them and send them to innocent people who will eat their neighbors, their uh sheep neighbors, in a state of unknowing. We are the superior race and they are but cockroaches at our feet. I encourage all of my viewers to all personally go out tonight and take as many human lives, by which I mean sheep lives, as possible. Polite lambs are, of course, allowed to exist, but only for our amusement. If a polite lamb begins to bleat to loudly you will, of course, have to slaughter it. I suggest taking it to an astronomy tower and cutting it into pieces and dividing them up with glass. It looks really cool and will upset their fellow sheep."

Off camera Jones was drooling and his glasses were falling off.

"Hannnnnnibal is amaaaaaazing," Jones groaned.

"Hannibal murders people and then eats their corpses. And sometimes he feeds their corpses to other people," said one of the cameramen.

"Yeah but he looks interesting. And he's foreign. And he wears suits," Jones pointed out blissfully.

"Why does he speak in a Danish accent?" pointed out an assistant.

"We already joked about that a few chapters ago," Jones said, as he began to draw Hannibal's name on his clipboard with little hearts.

"Yeah, we did. But I'm genuinely curious. What's up with that?"

The assistant's point was cut off by Will Graham stumbling onto the stage of the TV show, yelling about a ravenstag that wouldn't leave him alone and ingesting large quantities of aspirin.

"And another thing," said Will. "How come the TV show is called Hannibal? I'm the hero, aren't I? Well aren't I?"

"Why isn't it called Jack?" asked Jack Crawford.

"Come back later," muttered Jones to Jack.

"Will, are you drunk?" asked Hannibal curiously.

"Just a little. I thought it would make the ravenstag go away."

"Did it?"

"No, now there are five," Will said miserably. "But you can't distract me, you foreign bastard! And how come your actual name is so awesome for your character? Mads? Seriously? For a serial killer cannibal the name Mads works way too well! My name has NOTHING to do with my character. It just sounds really proper and British, like I'm a fricking lord or something! Oh, m'lord Dancy of Chesterhamptonshire, come this way so that you might knight the tea and play cricket with the queen while subjugating India and crocheting doilies with Margaret Thatcher's face. God damn it. I'm a profiler, not a prince!"

"Are you a profiler?" asked Hannibal. "What is your job, exactly, Will?"

Will looked dumbstruck. "Now that you mention it... I don't know. I'm... I'm Jack's bitch, I guess."

"Does Jack even pay you?"

"M-maybe?" Will said, feeling horribly confused.

"Will, have you ever considered stopping this silly thing with the FBI that makes no sense and becoming a florist?" Hannibal suggested.

"Y-you're right, Hannibal," Will whispered. "I must renounce all earthly ties and commune with the spirit realm and thus vanquish my half-raven half-stag nemesis!"

"That is definitely not what I said," Hannibal told Will, looking at him as though he had grown a second head. "And I know what I say, Will. If I'm not careful I could inadvertently tell you I'm really the Chesapeake Ripper or that I'm screwing Alana Bloom."

"You're what?" asked Will, alarmed. "When does that happen?"

"Haven't you been reading ahead in the script?" asked Hannibal.

"NO, of course not!" Will shouted. "No spoilers, Hannibal!"

Hannibal sighed. "Will, can you please let me do my cooking show?"

"I thought you didn't want to do it," Will said.

"No, I want to now. I'm enjoying bending that man over there to my will, Will. Ha. Anyways I was thinking I could use him to help me escape from any charges against me by pinning everything on him."

"Hannibal, we're filming tomorrow, you don't have time to brainwash a stranger that much," Will pointed out logically.

Hannibal stared at him for a moment, then nodded appreciatively.

"You are correct, Will. I have decided to pin it all on someone I know much better."

"You're pinning it all on Jack? Cool, dude," said Will, grinning. "That's a great idea."

"Great idea," droned Jones from the back ground while the crew dragged him to the hospital.

"Sooooo... Can I eat those lamb chops?" asked Will.

Hannibal suddenly wished Freddie Lounds was there so that he had someone he could kill without making anyone angry.

But she wasn't so he didn't kill anyone. Instead he pictured Will being repeated stabbed by a bayonet.

Hannibal Lecter smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you guys liked that. I'm a little nervous about posting this since it doesn't follow the plot of Hannibal and is therefore solely from my brain-matter. So reviews would be nice! If you're not too busy. I'll be back in a week or two with the usual !2! chapter update. I've got some AP tests so wish me luck :)<strong>

**Peace, yo.**


	12. Hannibal Has an Existential Crisis

**I'm back, bitches! I finally finished all of my (bleeped words) finals! That means I can update for you guys again with our reularly scheduled programming. I'm sorry finals put the story behind, but now they're OVER FOREVER (except, you know, for next year). As always, thanks for all the reviews, you guys are all totally super awesome. And now, the reason why you came here: THE NEW CHAPTERS!**

**Also more swearing. Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>Hannibal's idea to go for a walk had seemed like a good idea at the time, but as Abigail, Hannibal, and Will moseyed into the garden Will realized he had no idea what to talk to Abigail about. What did he know about teenage girls?<p>

"So... Abigail... do you like Justin Beiber?" asked Will hesitantly.

"I'm seventeen, Mr. Graham," Abigail replied disparagingly.

"Ah. So you like Mads Mikkelsen, then?" Will tried again.

"I like Benedict Cumberbatch," Abigail told him.

"Oh. Isn't that a brand of British biscuits? Or do they call them chips?"

"I believe they call French fries chips. The British are a strange, unlikable people," Hannibal added helpfully, side glancing at Will who flicked him off while Abigail wasn't looking.

"Wow, you know so much about Europe, Dr. Lecter," Abigail said admiringly, with only a hint of sarcasm. "What else do you know?"

"I know I'm definitely not going to murder you later on in the series," Hannibal assured her.

"Thank god," said Abigail, looking relieved. "I was worried about that. You guys need a strong female character, right?"

"I believe that's why Alana Bloom changed genders," Hannibal told her. "That makes you expendable and perfect for my evil plan that I have definitely not started yet. I am definitely not going to make Will swallow your ear, Abigail. There is no chance of that."

"Good," Abigail said with a smile. "That's swell, Dr. Lecter. And also not a strangely specific denial."

"So, Abigail, I'm sorry your mom died and stuff," Will said, making everything all awkward.

"I saw him kill her," Abigail said, making things even more awkward, plus depressing now.

"He was loving up until the second he wasn't," Abigail continued.

"This is really depressing, can't we just talk about football or something?" asked Will.

"What's football?" asked Hannibal curiously.

"Oh come on!" yelled Will. "You fricking know what FOOTBALL is! They have football in Bosnia and Herzegovina, I know it!"

"Oh, you're Bosnian?" asked Abigail. "I thought you were from Yugoslavia."

"That's not even a country anymore," Hannibal said, barely hiding his anger. "I am from...! I'm from..."

Hannibal face turned blank.

"Uh..." he continued, looking desperate now. "It's- it's one of the Baltic states!"

"The what?" asked Will and Abigail simultaneously.

"There's Latvia... Estonia... and- and Lichtenstein? Lebanon? Fuck, I forgot!"

"Ha! Hannibal forgot where he's from, Hannibal forgot where he's from!" Will sang, jabbing his fingers at Hannibal and making rude noises.

"It's not funny!" Hannibal yelled back.

"It's a little funny," Abigail muttered.

There was a lull in the conversation as Hannibal departed from the room, in the middle of an existential crisis.

"So, um, you uh, doin' fun stuff in the crazy hospital?" asked Will.

"I'm worried about nightmares," Abigail said distantly.

"I am, too," Will told her.

"So killing someone, even if it's for the right reasons, really feels that bad?"

"It's the ugliest thing in the world. Except for Jimmy Price."

"Yeah, he's pretty ugly," agreed Abigail.

"HEY!" came Price's offstage voice as the scene changed, because that's what happens when you run out of deep, trippy things to say on your weird, artsy horror TV show.

* * *

><p>Will and Hannibal left the hospital together for reasons that the producers merely called 'slash bait.' Freddie Lounds was waiting with a stack of CDs.<p>

"Hi, want to buy some of my CDs? I've left the fanfiction business, the world wasn't quite ready for Jack CrawfordXWinston."

"Of god," Will muttered, looking as though about to vomit.

"So now," Freddie continued without heed, " I'm singing covers. Here's my cover of 'Smells Like Teen Spirit.' I think I could be the next Kurt Cobain."

"Uh, Ms. Lounds-" Hannibal began.

"Don't," Will said. "Don't tell her. Let her find out on her own."

"But-"

"No..." Will whispered. "No..."

"Uh, right, well, I also have version of Blitzkrieg Bop," said Freddie, fishing out a CD.

"Now she's just making shit up," Will muttered to Hannibal. "Plus CDs are a dying medium. Get onto iTunes like regular person."

"iTunes is for pretentious douchebags. DIY, bitch!" yelled Freddie.

"I no longer have any idea what you're talking about," Hannibal said. "This is my TV show and you are ruining it, Ms. Lounds. Let's cut to the next scene while I figure out where the fuck I'm from."

* * *

><p>The next two scenes were stupid so Hannibal skipped them, too.<p>

* * *

><p>"Here we are at Abigail's house with Abigail!" Will announced.<p>

"Why're you telling everyone that?" asked Alana Bloom from the backseat.

"Cuz Hannibal cut out all of the exposition."

"It was boring and unnecessary," Hannibal said. "And you all are behaving most rudely. And you know what I do to the rude?"

"Have sex with them?" asked Alana.

"Pin your crimes on them?" suggested Will.

"Murder them and feed their ear to their father figure?" Abigail guessed.

Hannibal sighed. "I remembered where I'm from, by the way. It's Lithuania."

"That sounds boring," Will said dismissively, exiting the car that they were in that had not been previously mentioned but will now be mentioned because of the need for some sort of environment. It had been mentioned Alana was in the back seat so through inductive reasoning you probably could have figured it out but now it has been explicitly stated and will no longer only be a hypothesis in the mind of the reader.

The other three exited the car.

"You hear Freddie's cover of Voodoo Chile? It's actually less racist than I initially assumed it would be-" Abigail began but her mouth snapped shut as she saw the graffiti on the garage door of her garage.

CANNIBALS

In the background Hannibal put on a pair of rad sunglasses, gave a nod full of swag, and muttered, "hashtag yolo, hashtag eat the rude."

"Screw you," Abigail muttered back. "Creepbag."

"Accomplice," Hannibal countered.

"Murderer."

"Fatso."

Hannibal looked genuinely offended by the last one and looked in the mirror of the car window.

"Maybe I should swim more... That could only end well for me."

"At least you don't die," muttered Abigail.

* * *

><p>Inside the house everything was really depressing and bloodstained, mostly because Hannibal kept coming back to kill more people there since his house was getting crowded. He was sure Garett Jacob Hobbes wouldn't have minded.<p>

Abigail wandered around numbly while the three adults watched her with varying levels of concern.

"If you ever want to go, just listen to Alana's flow. Just say the word and we'll leave here like a bird," Alana told Abigail sort-of comfortingly.

"And go where? The hospital?" asked Abigail listlessly.

"Yeah sister homie, that'd be the plan. Unless of course you wanna go to Bob's Funland."

"Wait, we could go to Bob's Funland? Why the hell aren't we there right now?" asked Will angrily.

"Budget," said Alana with a shrug.

"You didn't rhyme that with anything," said Hannibal.

"It's cuz of the budget, damn we broke like the pudgeit."

"You just made a word up."

"Rappers do it all the time, and they say I got sick rhymes," Alana countered.

"The only person to say you have sick rhymes would be Helen Keller," muttered Abigail.

"What was that, spit it back?" Alana asked.

"Oh, nothing. Maybe you should collaborate with Freddie and do an Eminem song or something is all," suggested Abigail with an evil smile.

"Oh, god no, she's gonna do it now," groaned Will as Alana hurriedly pulled out her phone to call Freddie Lounds. Cuz she totally has Freddie's number. I see you questioning the logic. Stop it... Stop it. Relax. This is a break from the real world where things suck all the time. Just sit back and enjoy the crackfic. Enjoy not doing school/work right now. Relax. Take a few deep breaths. In... Out... How was your day today? You feeling alright? It's good to see you here, I'm so glad you're reading this. You're looking good, too, reader, have I mentioned? You're so very attractive and wonderful. I'm glad we're all here on this planet today. It's a good day to be alive. Take another few deep breaths. Okay, let's get back to it.

"What did it feel like? To be him?" asked Abigail, referring to her cannibalistic serial killer father who murdered her mother and then attempted to murder her.

"It felt like," Will began thoughtfully, popping several pills, "talking to a shadow suspended on dust. Or something. Who the fuck writes this, anyways? A shadow suspended on dust? Really? What does that even mean?"

"It's deep," Hannibal said with a shrug. "And it sounds very intelligent."

"But it doesn't mean anything," Will pointed out.

"Why're we here again?" asked Abigail.

"Oh, right!" said Alana. "I'll spit it tight. Your pop had to kill ya cuz he was feelin' the heat. Another serial killer was callin' him on repeat. Turns out Hobbes isn't the only killer in the house, cuz we still got the Chesapeake Ripper and he's deadly and silent as a mouse. You heard him on the phone wantin' to talk to yo pa. So tell me, who was he and did he know ya?"

"There's more than one serial killer on the loose?" demanded Abigail. "What're we doing in my house? Shouldn't you guys be out fighting crime?"

"I can't catch a serial killer every single episode," Will said. "I mean, how many serial killers are there? Seriously, if you watch the show there's like fifty in any given city."

"Maybe we should just sort through some boxes," suggested Hannibal. "I believe that we are only achieving further alienation from the actual storyline."

"Well, you should never disagree with someone from Germania," Will said.

"I AM NOT FROM ROMAN TIMES!" yelled Hannibal.

"Technically he's from the tail end of Nazi power and WW2. Isn't that how it is in the original storyline, where he's got that sister and stuff and the movies were really bad?" Abigail wondered.

"Stop lampshading everything!" Will yelled.

"I want to yell something, too!" Alana screamed.

The group then descended into random squabbling from which they never recovered.

* * *

><p><strong>Abrupt ending is abrupt! I'll have the next chapter up in an hour or two.<strong>

**You guys know what to do (:**


	13. Everyone Waits for Marissa to Die

**Lookie, another chapter! How exciting! This one's a little shorter. Tough titties. Spellcheck says titties isn't a word. I say screw you, spell check! And, also, I'm sorry about the return of rapping!alana (it's totally a thing now! (at least it is in my head))**

* * *

><p>"Are we going to reenact the crime?" asked Abigail as she sorted through the boxes of her broken home with Will, Alana, and Hannibal.<p>

"I don't know, it goes against my flow," Alana rapped to her. "Reenact the crime might re-break your mind."

"Reenacting, not reenact," corrected Hannibal.

"Whatever, excuse me never," Alana continued.

Abigail, however, was still fixated on her idea.

"You could be my dad," said Abigail to Will. "And... you could be my mom!" she went on, pointing at Alana. "And you can be the man on the phone," she finished, pointing at Hannibal.

He stuck his middle finger up at her.

The sound of a door being opened interrupted Hannibal's passive, soon to be aggressive, anger and a teenage girl walked into the room.

"Damn it, another character," said Will. "And I'd just gotten random science team member's name down!"

"Don't worry," Hannibal said, eyeing the girl up. "She probably won't last long."

"We'll that's kind of ominous," said Will. "I'm just going to ignore that."

"You and the rest of the world."

* * *

><p>"So..." Abigail's friend said as they walked in Abigail's backyard. Or is it hers? Has she sold the house yet? Is it state property?<p>

"So..." Abigail's friend said as they walked in _**the**_backyard. "Your parents are dead and your dad was crazy. That must suck."

"Yeah..."

"Everyone got interviewed by the news after what happened. They're all such whores."

Abigail sighed. "I wish I was on the news."

"You are. Just not in the fun way."

"You're not a good friend, are you?" asked Abigail.

Abigail's friend shrugged. "I'm going to die soon, so does it really matter?"

"Good point. So uh... what else should we say while we're waiting for that guy Freddie Lounds convinced that you're evil to show up?"

"Um, what do us teenage girls like?" Abigail asked.

"Slash porn?"

"I'm not sure the writers of Hannibal want to have that on their TV show."

"Uh, maybe we could talk about the Russian invasion of the Ukraine and Ukraine's historical relationship with Russia, particularly when it was part of the USSR and how some Ukrainians consider themselves ethnically Russian."

"We're teenagers, Abigail."

"Right. Lady Gaga?"

Luckily the scene's antagonist showed up before they could fumble any more topics.

"Hey, I'm angry at you, even though my anger is found-less, although I am a slightly sympathetic character because my sister was murdered! Rarr!" the antagonist who also won't last very long yelled at Abigail and her friend.

"Piss off!' yelled the friend, tossing a rock at him.

"Piss off?" asked Abigail. "Seriously? Nobody says that."

"HISS, HISS!" hissed the antagonist.

Luckily Will and Hannibal showed up just in time to prevent the antagonist from transforming into a snake and successfully changing the TV show from horror to dark fantasy.

Unfortunately for Will and Hannibal the antagonist had a snake sense of danger and slithered away before the heroes of the story could catch him.

"Marissa!" yelled a woman, running onstage.

"Who the hell is Marissa?" asked Will.

"Who the hell is that woman?" asked Hannibal.

"Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?" asked Abigail.

"Where hasn't she been, am I right guys?" asked Will suggestively.

The woman glared at Abigail's friend angrily.

"Marissa, come back into the house this instant! Do you have any idea how dangerous these people could be?" asked the woman.

"Mom, stop bossing me around!" yelled Marissa. "They're perfectly normal and-"

"THE RAVENSTAG! IT IS COMING! RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAVVVVVVVEEEEEEENNNNNNNSSSSSSTTTTTTTAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGG! I FEEL EVERYTHING!" screeched Will.

"I'm going to murder your daughter," Hannibal said cheerfully.

"Actually yeah, let's go," Marissa said.

"I'm still going to murder her painfully!" called Hannibal as they walked away.

"Text me later before, you Hannibal kills you," Abigail yelled to her.

* * *

><p>That night Will dreamed about slitting Abigail's throat while the ravenstag watched.<p>

"Stop struggling," dream Will whispered in Abigail's ear as he held a knife to her throat. "Struggling is for wimps."

The ravenstag nodded slowly and began to rub its antlers.

"Creepy! He's turned on by this!" Will yelled, staring at the ravenstag in horror and quickly slitting Abigail's throat.

"You like that? HUH? You like that?" Will screamed at it.

Will's alarm went off.

He stared at the ceiling for a solid ten minutes before getting up.

"Maybe I should just take more aspirin..."

* * *

><p>"So, um, we cleaned up the cabin and stuff," said Will as the four walked into the cabin.<p>

"It still looks like crap. Always did," said Abigail. "My dad liked all the blood on the walls and on the floor. Now that I think on it, that probably should've been a clue, shouldn't it?"

Alana shook her head and patted Abigail comfortingly on the arm.

"No, homie girl, let my real talk rock your world. It wasn't your fault what your daddy did. If only you would've run and hid. See your daddy ate people but he didn't eat you. Instead he ate other chicks and turned their bones into glue. That definitely ain't your fault, home girl Abigail, and this sure ain't the end of your tale. That isn't for another couple more episodes, but I think we're gonna wait before we drop those loads."

"He said you should never waste any part of the animal. Otherwise it was murder," Abigail said. "Does that mean he was feeding us his victims?" she asked with sudden horror.

"I feel sudden kinship with Hobbes," Hannibal announced.

"That's nice, Hannibal," said Will.

Abigail, meanwhile, was beginning to shake with shock.

"He was feeding them to us... that means... he lied about buying organic meat from the co op! That bastard! I told him I didn't want to eat anything other than organic meat, and he goes and feeds me human meat! Ugh, it's so inhumane, not eating organic. You know what, fine. I'm vegan now. Happy dad?" demanded Abigail, crying.

"Oh, do you hallucinate him, too?" asked Will eagerly, feeling slightly relieved.

"You hallucinate about my dad?" asked Abigail, looking deeply concerned.

"Hannibal's a serial killer, I think we should be more worried about that," Will pointed out.

Hannibal punched a wall.

"Do you all know or not? I don't understand! Sometimes you clearly understand and acknowledge and other times you remain painfully oblivious! I don't get it! UGH!"

Meanwhile blood had been dripping onto Abigail's face for the past couple seconds, much to Abigail's dismay.

"Should we... a... check it out?" asked Will as Abigail whimpered and whispered about kale.

No one moved.

"Um, I'll, uh, I'll go," Will said with a sigh and marched up the stairs to the next floor.

"Well, we had no way of knowing that was coming," said Will as he gazed at the scene in front of him.

"Is it Marissa?" yelled Abigail from the ground floor.

"Yep!"

"Is she impaled on deer antlers?"

"She is!"

"Should we call Jack?"

"Probably!"

They called Jack. He was not pleased.

* * *

><p><strong>My name is smagwearsascarf and I get respect. Reviews, faves, and follows are what I expect. My nerd flow is sicker than Hobbes's mind. Now I better get going or else I'll get behind.<strong>

**Word. (I am so sorry)**


	14. Someone Else Dies

**Holy smokes, it's been a while. Wondering why? It's cuz I work as the counselor at a summer camp and have very, very limited access to the internet. Like a once a week kinda deal. Which is the only time I ever have off from camp. So right now is literally the only time I have to upload this. But now that I'm relaxing back into the groove of my job (which I love, for the record) I'll be updating better. Hopefully.**

**Sorry about that, guys, but here's some stuff to laugh at so you forget you're angry with me!**

**Also, more swearing. I'm no longer gonna warn you guys about my filthy language because I assume you would've stopped reading this fic by now if you were offended by my wordage. Wordage, by the way, is not detected as a misspelling by the website's spelling thingie. So apparently that's a word. Wordage: Tell your Friends.**

* * *

><p>Jack Motherfucking Crawford walked onto the crime scene looking so dope that all the haters were like "<em>damn." <em>Then the camera abruptly left him because Jack was too full of swag to be filmed for more than a few seconds.

Up in the attic of Hobbes' death cabin, Will Graham examined the dead body of Abigail's unmemorable friend with Hannibal.

"Do you think she knew the guy down by the stream?" asked Will.

"The one who hissed?" Hannibal asked.

"No, the completely unsuspicious guy," Will said sarcastically. "Of course the one who hissed."

"He was one of the victims' brother."

"Did we establish we know who he is already?" Will asked curiously.

"It was in the script," Hannibal said with a shrug.

"Yeah, I don't read those. I think it ruins the spontaneity of the moment."

"This isn't improv, Will," said Hannibal tiredly.

"Yes, and-"

"Will," Hannibal reprimanded sharply.

"Whatever. Anyways, the snake dude asked Abigail if she helped her father rip out his sister's lungs or something. Jeez that's gross. But only one victim had that happen to them- Cassie Boyle. But Cassie Boyle was the victim in the field. She wasn't killed by Garett Jacob Hobbes."

"I know," Hannibal said.

"Could you phrase that in a way that doesn't sound like you're the one who killed her?" asked Will.

"No, I can't."

Will stared at him. "You sure you don't want to, because at this point you're trying really hard to make it obvious you did it."

Hannibal sighed. "This isn't moving the plot along, Will."

"Screw the plot!"

"You brought Abigail Hobbes," interrupted Jack Crawford, who entered the room like a black Batman. "To-"

"AHHH!" yelled Will, surprised, interrupting Jack. "Ravenstag! Oh, wait, it's just you Jack. You shouldn't jump out at me like that. I'm unstable, remember?"

"I try not to, makes my job easier. What I was saying, was that you came to Minnesota, and now another girl is dead. You said the copycat killer would never kill like this again."

Will and Jack turned to stare at Hannibal.

He raised both hands up, palms facing outwards. "This one wasn't me, guys."

The two continued staring doubtfully.

"I swear on the blood of my family. Wait, do I even have a family?" Hannibal asked suddenly, concerned at his lack of backstory.

"Yeah, but they're all dead. Didn't you read the books?" Will said dismissively.

"I thought you never read the books," Hannibal protested.

"No, I said _scripts. _Actually, now that I think of it I can't remember if the Japanese chick died or not in Hannibal Rising. Jack, you remember?"

"No, I only remember my skin color never being specified in Silence of the Lambs. And now every director thinks: hey, let's make him white! Let's make him black! It's confusing! I don't know who I am anymore!" Jack yelled.

"Nicholas Boyle murdered this girl," interrupted Hannibal.

"What?" asked Will.

"What?" asked Jack.

"Serial killers can always tell who killed someone. It's being psychic, except not fake," Hannibal explained.

"Oh. So what do we do now?" asked Will.

"You guys wanna go to KFC with me? I'm really hungry," Jack told them.

"I could just make something," offered Hannibal.

Jack and Will both stared at him.

"I could use meat from actual animals," Hannibal added.

The staring continued.

"Or not..."

* * *

><p>After KFC (Hannibal just sulked in the corner and spent a long time in the men's room, and came out covered in blood) Hannibal and Alana escorted Abigail back to her old home to pick up her possessions so that she could leave Minnesota for good. Everyone in Minnesota dreams of one day leaving Minnesota, after all. God, it's so effing cold in Minnesota. Freezing my berries off in this crummy state...<p>

The radio of the SUV Alana, Abigail, and Hannibal rode in had on a report about some dude getting killed in a KFC men's room, which was kind of grim so Alana turned it off. Unfortunately the noise of the radio would be replaced by a mob as the pulled into Abigail's driveway.

Outside Abigail's home a large group of reporters, spectators, and general assholes had gathered round, held back by a police line that let both the SUV and the insults of the crowd through. It wasn't a very good police line.

"Abigail, what's it like to have a dad who was so freaking ugly?"

"Abigail, what was your father's best dish that he made for you out of human flesh?"

"-Wait, is that Hannibal Lecter?"

"Hannibal, what is your best dish that you make out of human flesh?"

"Abigail, what's it like to be shipped with Will Graham _and _Hannibal?"

As the three exited the vehicle one woman broke through the police line. It wasn't a very good police line.

"You!" yelled the woman, approaching Abigail. "The news about your father made me miss the new Jersey Shore! How DARE YOU!"

"I thought she was sad that her daughter was killed by Garett Jacob Hobbes," hissed Alana to Hannibal as the police dragged the woman away.

"It was too depressing," Hannibal whispered. "You're not going to rap again, are you?" Hannibal added.

Alana shrugged.

Freddie Lounds emerged from the shadows.

"Shit, I thought we were going to get through the rest of the episode without her," muttered Alana.

"Ms. Lounds, you are on the wrong side of the police line," Hannibal said as a police officer, looking vaguely disgruntled, came to drag the red haired woman out of the crime scene.

"And your face is one the wrong side of your head," Freddie replied quickly.

"I really can't tell if that's a good insult or a bad one," Hannibal observed smartly.

"You should monitor the police lines better," Freddie said as she was dragged away. "I'm not the only one lurking around. It's really not a good police line."

Hannibal pause and followed Freddie off the crime scene.

"Is there someone else lurking about? A man who acts like a snake, perhaps?"

"You tell me why it's important and maybe I'll tell you," Freddie said with her best flirtatious smile, which was enough to make any man swear off of sex for the rest of his life.

"You stop being a bitch and maybe the fans will like you."

"Damn, he's got the comebacks," Freddie muttered.

* * *

><p>Back inside the house Abigail was crying because she's seventeen and her life kinda sucks a lot.<p>

She absentmindedly played with a pillow in her lap that her father had made, when a thought suddenly dawned on her.

"No," she muttered. "Surely not..."

She pulled out a knife from one of the evidence boxes and cut the pillow open.

"NO!" she yelled in horror, hyperventilating.

Because the pillow was stuffed with...

Her father's shaved armpit hair.

"AGH!" she screamed, the overpowering scent of middle-aged man BO overpowering.

"Abigail?" hissed a voice.

She turned in horror. It was Nick Boyle, the dude who was previously mentioned!

"I didn't _hisssss_ kill that girl Abigail. Thisssssss wasss all a big missssunderstanding."

Abigail stood up and began backing away.

"Wait, Abigail," Nick said, but Abigail was already running.

Nick grabbed Abigail by the arm and threw her against the wall, hard. Heh, heh. Hard.

Abigail, terrified, did the only natural thing. She stabbed him in the heart and brutally murdered him.

_"Hiss," _Nick Boyle managed before he finally died.

"Why does everyone appear suddenly in this TV show?" asked Abigail in tears. "It's not conducive to survival on this show!"

"No one on the show is supposed to be happy, Abigail," said Hannibal, appearing suddenly.

"AHHHHH!" Abigail yelled, stabbing wildly at him. Hannibal, luckily, had stunningly catlike reflexes thanks to a healthy diet and lifestyle. And also murdering people as a hobby. Hey, reader, if you're out of shape maybe you should start killing people systematically and eating their corpses! That seems like a good program for weight loss nuts.

The Hannibal Lecter Diet: Torture, Murder, and Then Consume the Dead.

"Good work," Hannibal said, holding Abigail off. "You really are my daughter."

"You say that like it's a good thing," sobbed Abigail, who was shaking. "And where's Alana?"

"Oh, I knocked her out. There is probably no brain damage."

"Probably?"

Hannibal shrugged and walked over to Nicholas Snake-Boyle's corpse.

"He was going to kill me," Abigail said quickly, trying to pull herself together.

"Was he?"

"Your sarcasm is not helping!" Abigail told him.

"This is not self defense, Abigail. You butchered him."

"I didn't."

Hannibal stared at her.

"Just because people do that to you doesn't mean you can do that to me," Abigail protested.

Hannibal continued to stare.

"Stop making this weird," said Abigail.

Hannibal turned back to the body. "I can help you," Hannibal offered. "At great risk to my career and life."

Abigail frowned. "How's it a risk to your life? No one's going to kill you because you helped hide a corpse."

"No one is going to believe this was self defense, Abigail. Not even Will, and he's pretty gullible. No, Abigail, you need my help. And I'll give it to you, if you ask. Abigail."

"Stop saying my name so much," Abigail said amidst her tears.

"Abigail."

"Alright, alright, jeez, you can have it!" Abigail choked out.

"Cool. I'm not going to eat this one, either."

"What?" asked Abigail.

Hannibal stared at her.

"I give up," Abigail muttered, sinking to the ground.

"You and me both, Abigail. You and me both."

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, so normally I post two chapters per update but I'm crunched for time so I'll put the other chapter up TOMORROW, since I will have a brief window to do so tomorrow evening! Alright, thanks for all the reviewsfaves/follows so far and keep it up, guys! Take care and don't get eaten! :)**


	15. Hannibal Breaks the Fourth Wall

**'Sup?**

**Before I start the story I wanna just reply to aperson16, who pointed out, and very correctly, that this is a super dialog-heavy story, to the point that it's kinda a flaw in the writing. I've been noticing that myself. Since this is a crackfic I sometimes get a little lazy with the writing, so sorry about that, and I'm gonna try harder to incorporate people you know... moving around and stuff. I'll try to at least tone down the voices floating in space quality. :P Thank you for actually pointing it out though, I really do appreciate it.**

**And thanks to everybody else, too, and on with the show!**

* * *

><p>Outside of the Hobbes' home, Alana Bloom sat in the back of an ambulance while Will Graham and Jack Registered Badass Crawford stood with her.<p>

"I really don't remember anything," she told them, rubbing the bandaged lump on her head. "I could've sworn Hannibal knocked me out, but since we've all decided to trust him for no discernable reason it couldn't have been him."

"Yeah, but while you've been sleeping, Alana," Jack told her. "Shit has gone crazy. Nicholas Boyle attacked Abigail and she scratched him."

"What? Is she alright? Where is she?"

"Hannibal took her and something that definitely wasn't Nicholas Boyle's corpse away. We don't know what happened to Boyle because Hannibal definitely did not take his dead body and Abigail totally didn't kill him with a hunting knife."

"Boyle got away?" Alana demanded.

"Yeah, we kinda suck at our jobs," Jack admitted.

Will stood up from his seat on the ambulance.

"Where're you going?" Jack asked as Will began to leave.

"I'm going home. I have a herd of dogs to feed. Wait, a herd? What's the proper term for a large group of dogs?" Will asked, finally saying something instead of just sitting around looking like he was doing something even though he totally wasn't.

"Um, a flock?" Alana guessed.

"A flock of dogs?" asked Will doubtfully, crossing his arms.

"A pack," Jack said with certainty. "Like wolves or something."

Will thought about it for a second, then nodded.

"Yeah, a pack of dogs. I'm gonna go feed them."

"Aren't we in Minnesota, though?" Alana pointed out reasonably.

"Shut up, Alana," Will told her in annoyance.

"Yeah, shut up, Alana," agreed Jack, always happy to gang up on someone weaker than him.

Luckily Alana's concussion stopped her from really paying attention to what the two were saying. Instead she was thinking about recording her rap album. She'd call it... Maad Therapee 4 Maad Daawgz. Or something.

Yeah. Rap.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, the person who this TV show is <em>actually <em>named after was sitting in his office, looking dramatic and cool, which aren't really two words that should be applied to an evil, murderous, sociopathic, cannibal. But whatever, it's Hannibal.

"Hello Abigail," Hannibal said without looking up.

He was greeted with silence.

Hannibal looked up, loosing all of his cool cred.

"Abigail?"

"She's not on set yet!" yelled a crew member. "Try it again in a couple seconds!"

Hannibal let out and irritated sigh. "Incompetent, lazy... Hello, Abigail," he reattempted.

"How did you know it was me?" asked Abigail's voice from off-screen.

"Why isn't she onscreen?" asked Hannibal in irritation.

"Looks cool!" explained another crew member.

"It's confusing," asked Hannibal. "Must we be artsy and innovative in every scene? Can't any of the characters engage in a normal, relatable conversation? In really life people do not speak primarily in enigmatic statements that are all larger metaphors for the human condition. Have any of the writers of this TV show ever actually met a human being?"

"Stop going off script," advised the first crew member.

Hannibal crossed his arms and sat back.

"Line!" called Abigail.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Hannibal muttered.

"This is the part where you ask why Hannibal how he knew it was you," the script manager coaxed her.

"Oh, yes, yes I remember. Ahem. How did you-? Ugh, that sounded awful. Can we start over?"

Hannibal stood up.

"I'm taking a coffee break. Figure this out while I'm away."

After twenty minutes of Hannibal glaring at the food service people Hannibal returned to his office.

"Right, are we good to go now?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Abigail said from the balcony, now standing in the correct position. "I'm all good now. I didn't sleep a lot last night, so I'm feeling a little under the weather and-"

"You do not need to make excuses. Let's just do this again, shall we?"

Hannibal sat down behind his desk.

"And... Action!"

"Hello Abigail," said Hannibal without looking up.

"How did you know it was me?" asked Abigail.

"The hospital called. Come down from there."

Abigail watched hesitantly as Hannibal stood up and made his was to the ladder. He waited patiently as Abigail climbed the ladder down, grabbing her arm helpfully s she descended the last rung.

"There we go," said Hannibal, using his most patient tone. "You're doing fine, Abigail. You remember the rest of the scene?"

Abigail nodded and cleared her throat as the two walked over to Hannibal's cozy armchairs.

"I didn't know where else to go. I'm afraid to sleep."

"You can not anticipate nightmares, Abigail," Hannibal told her, sitting down.

"I know. I feel bad, though," she replied, sitting down as well. "Hannibal?"

"Yes?"

"This chair is wet."

Hannibal frowned. "It is?"

"Yeah."

There was an awkward pause.

"I think it's blood."

"Most likely."

The teen and the cannibal stared at each other.

"You're kind of a bastard, aren't you, Hannibal?"

"Am I?"

"Yeah. You called my dad to warn him you and poppa Will are coming; I remember. So it's kinda your fault my parents are dead. And I think you murdered my best friend. Plus I think you killed that dude in the KFC bathroom."

Hannibal shrugged. "Yeah, but I wear cool-looking suits, so I believe that makes up for it."

"Does it?" asked Abigail. "Does it really?"

Hannibal smiled politely.

"Don't smile. It's even creepier than never smiling," Abigail told him, squirming in her bloody chair.

"I apologize."

"So what did you tell my father, exactly?" asked Abigail, standing up and wiping blood from the butt of her jeans uncomfortably.

"A simple conversation ascertaining if he was home for an interview."

"That's bullshit," Abigail said evenly.

"Yes," Hannibal agreed.

"I think you called as a serial killer. Like my dad."

"I am nothing like your dad, Abigail," said Hannibal.

"Bullshit," repeated Abigail.

"Indeed," Hannibal told her.

"I made a mistake, like you Abigail. And for that I am sorry," Hannibal explained as Abigail sat back down in the chair, clearly having decided her jeans were screwed.

Hannibal watched Abigail.

"Are you buying it?" he asked.

Abigail shook her head. "Not really. Don't think the audience is, either."

"Well the audience actually knows," said Hannibal. "So I would expect them to call me out on my bullshit. But in the context of this story I am more interested in if you are believing my lies rather than people who knew going into this show that I would be evil."

Abigail nodded. "Alright. Cool."

"So, I keep your secret, yes?" asked Hannibal.

"And I keep yours," said Abigail.

"Cut!" yelled the director, just out of the camera's range. "Alright, that's another episode finished, guys! Anybody wanna order a pizza or something?"

"I've got people to kill," Hannibal told the director apologetically, taking off the jacket of his suit and fishing in his pocket for his car keys. "At the end of next episode, perhaps."

"I can stay," Abigail offered. "Can we get a cheese?"

"Sure," the director says. "I think Shelly from editing is gonna go get it. Right, Shelly?" he called.

"Yeah!" yelled Shelly from across the set.

"Cool. Jack's staying as well," the directory said.

"Is poppa Will staying?" asked Abigail eagerly as the various crew members began to come on stage to take down some of the set so that a sitcom could film there after them.

"He wasn't sure. He didn't really wanna stay if Alana is staying. Something about a love triangle."

Abigail nodded in understanding. "Yeah. That happens."

After Hannibal left and Shelly got the pizzas the Hannibal crew party started up. It was pretty fly, but Beverly Katz got a little drunk and ended up in a fist fight with Freddie Lounds, who ended up getting her nose broken.

And no one was sad about that.

No one.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, y'all know what to do from here so I'll let ya go!<strong>


	16. Not a Chapter Chapter

**Hey guys. This is not the update you want as you can probably already tell. Sorry about that. I have no time to actually sit down and write something because of work, so there will be no more updates until about September. I'm really sorry about that and thank you all so much for your support. It's not the end, guys! I'll add a quick joke to soften the blow.**

**Q: Why did Hannibal cross the road?**

**A: Because Will Graham looked happy on the other side and Hannibal wanted to ruin it.**

**I'll be back in about two months.**


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